Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope
by TerraCottaKitten
Summary: After many bizarre murders around Central, the only explanation the cops have are alchemy or...stranger yet, magic. When Ed vanishes, it's up to his friend's to solve the case. Too bad for Ed, but a magician never reveals his secrets...EdxWin, RoyxRiza
1. Of Squabbling and Severing

**Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope**

**Disclaimer:** Nope, don't own… anything… except a computer, which I used to write this thing… And I don't do magic tricks (and you probably don't really know what I'm talking about now… but you will… 8D), I barely know how they work, but I have done many nights of research, so I think I figured out most of it… if not feel free to make fun, but I would appreciate it if someone who knows how to do it would correct me, that would be very nice :)

**Ed and Winry:** 20

**Alphonse:** 19

**Full Summary:** After many bizarre murders around Central, the only explanations the police can come up with are alchemy or… stranger yet, magic. Not believing in magic and disgusted at the idea of an alchemist killer, Ed decides to take the case. When he vanishes, it's up to the only people he can trust to try to crack the mystery. Too bad for Ed, but a magician never reveals his secrets…

Mangaverse

**Note:** (I don't know if these are spoilers or not…) Homunculus are all dead, stone found, Al's body back

_**Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language.**_

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**Chapter 1: Of Squabbling and Severing**

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**November 20, 1919--3:40 AM, **_**Marblin Street**_

The girl was lying on her back. Brown hair, blue eyes, and covered in blood. Her long curls of chestnut hair spiraled across the frigid ground, stopping only to brush against her pale cheeks. Her vacant gaze was fixed upward, staring at a heaven the officers surrounding her no longer believed in.

"Damn! He got another one," cursed Chief Dan Wilcore. He bent down on his hands and knees, hunching his tall figure in the process, to examine the familiar bouquet resting on the girl's chest of strange white flowers and odd green leaves, both flecked with the victim's blood. "And why does he keep leaving these flowers with 'em?" He questioned, running a powerful hand through his wild black hair.

"Maybe the bastard found out 'is wife was cheatin' on 'im, then he killed 'er and felt sorry… So he bought 'er somethin' pretty to make it all better," snickered an aging policeman, making the crows feet near the edge of his dull brown eyes crinkle in mirth. He turned to the young chief and stated, "Tha's what I do with my wife all the time… The buyin', not the killin', I mean," he quickly corrected, then continued "… although sometimes I jus' wanna…" Dan tuned out the rest of the man's rant and sighed.

The towering captain popped the collar of his coat up to keep the frigid wind whistling through the street from reaching his sensitive neck. He knew that the officers had to distance themselves from the situation to keep from going insane, but this was too much.

Another girl was dead and all the Central Police Force could do was run around like chickens with their heads chopped off (He looked down at the girl and cringed, noticing that his analogy wasn't the best choice, considering the pretty brunette sprawled on the cold dirt had her head almost completely severed).

A frail officer, the third in the company, chirped in, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his beak-like nose. "Judging by the impossible conditions… I mean, a man couldn't just cut a girl up and bind her with _fabric_," he picked up one of the flimsy scarves clinging to the victim's body and tossed it away in disgust, then continued on his observation, "By the size of her muscular anatomy, she should have been able to rip away the binds… It's only been a day since she's been missing and she's already ripped apart…and by scarves! Then the ass hole would have had to throw her from a ledge. And in _that_ short amount of time! We have patrols going around almost every twenty minutes in this area since the other killings and _this_ kidnapping… The guys say they didn't even hear a scream or anything. The only explanation is-"

"Magic," the salt-and-pepper haired cop interrupted wiggling his fingers menacingly, then let out a guffaw, which ended up as a wheezing cough, his breath coming out in bursts, fusing with the unforgiving night.

"No! An alchemist, you idiot!" The small, red-faced man fired back, lowering his head in his thick wool coat defensively and puffing out his chest like an offended rooster.

Dan tiredly rubbed his green eyes. "Then it's out of our hands guys. We have to turn this one over to the state. Let _them_ investigate if it really is an alchemist," He let his exhausted olive eyes wander to the balding man. "Tommy, go call 'em up and get 'em over here, so we can go home…"

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**November 20, 1919--9:20AM, **_**Central Vantish Apartment Buildings**_

"No one's answering…" The phone rang again, calling out to anyone on the other side of the line to end the impatience of the two people in the apartment and save them from the contraptions annoying shriek.

"No, someone has to be there, she's expecting us!"

"We're not the only one's that want her brother. She does have a lot of customers," a bronze-haired man chided, rolling his eyes at the antics of his sibling.

"Well, I hope she's not so busy that we have to start paying for her time like her other customers…" One of the two occupants in the room, a golden-eyed man trailed off, his bright eyes widening. Slowly, he turned to see the shocked and embarrassed expression passing over the round curve of his silver-eyed brother's face (one that he thought would mirror the one painted on his own angular features).

"Brother!" Squeaked Al. "I can't believe we just made her sound like some kind of… _scarlet woman,_" he trailed off meekly.

"Who's a prostitute?" A feminine voice on the other side of the line asked innocently. Both occupants in the room screeched, their minds instantly focusing on the thought of impending pain if the woman on the telephone ever discovered whom they were talking about.

"Oh crap! You know brother; I'm really late for class. I'd better get going if I don't want to be… uh… late," spluttered a red-faced Alphonse, quickly thrusting the telephone into Edward's hands. Ed covered the receiver with a large palm, holding the phone away from his burning cheek.

"Al, you can't just leave me with this," Edward snarled as quietly as he could.

"No time, brother. I really have to go," Al answered, relieved. He turned his back on the furious glare of his only family and ran down the long hallway to the armchair his bags were resting in, and then darted out the door of their apartment slamming it loudly. He knew he would get a serious reprimand later, but couldn't help a small smirk from coming to his face at the thought of his clueless brother trying to pacify the crazed mechanic.

"So, who's a prostitute?" Inquired Winry again, thoroughly enjoying the panic seeping into Ed's voice as he explained.

"Well, you see…" Ed's voice got more and more shrill as he continued "…Al's-having-a-little-trouble-with-the-girls-and-he's-so-shy-and-there's-this-girl-on-the-corner-next-to-our-apartment-all-the-time-and-we've-always-been-wondering-if-she's-a-prostitute-and-we-weren't-talking-about-you-at-all…" He ended with a lame squeak, gasping for air after using one panicked breath for the whole sentence.

"Oh, I see, so you were just gonna go up to some girl and, not even absolutely positive that she was really a…" Ed heard Winry pause, which he assumed was to make air quotes "'street walker' and ask her to sleep with Al?" Winry asked calmly.

"Yes! I mean, No! I mean-"

"You know, Ed, this girl wouldn't happen to have sun-kissed golden hair, beautiful blue eyes, and a dazzling smile that can brighten any room, would she?" interrupted an unperturbed Winry.

The girl with the dazzling smile that was holding a telephone receiver in Rush Valley heard the blond boy on the phone in Central sigh in defeat. "How did you know? I mean, not about the dazzling smile, not that you don't have a nice smile, I mean, I like it a lot, but-"

"Relax Ed," Winry said as she gave a short exasperated laugh, and accepted his compliment with a blush.

"So you're not mad?" He questioned, still tense.

"No, I heard the whole thing. I just wanted to mess with you a little." Aggravated, Ed frowned. _I can just picture that innocent little pout on her face now. I just want to kiss it off… wait, what_- His thoughts were interrupted and he shook his head to clear them.

"Ed, I've gotta say," Winry plowed on, oblivious to the feelings that she was stirring in the blond man, "I'm surprised Al hasn't picked up your… _colorful_ vocabulary since he's spent so much time with you. The only bad thing I've heard him say is 'crap', or 'damn'." An extremely relieved Edward grabbed onto the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory they were in.

"Yeah, after he moved in I was a bit surprised he wasn't talkin' like a sailor… He's even kept up his studies, and with me bothering him all the time." Ed smiled faintly, remembering the time after they had retrieved Al's body from the gate, and seeing the excitement in Al's eyes when he was accepted in to Central's Cavlin University.

He had figured Al would have wanted to start up a separate life from his screw up of a brother, but was overjoyed when Al had suggested they split an apartment, the one that they were living in now.

Ed started pacing in a small circle around the little table the telephone was situated on, still lost in thought. His smile turned to a smirk when he recalled seeing the gawk on Mustang's normally passive face after he told the bastard he would stay in the military.

He had to admit though, Mustang made a decent Fuhrer; the smirking bastard actually cared about the people and tried to help them whenever he could.

_Be Thou for the People_, Ed never would have thought that the saying would actually be taken seriously. Mustang managed to change the reputation of the State Alchemist from one of hatred to one of honor. That was one of the reasons Ed wanted to stay… well, that and the excellent funding that allowed him to try and make advances in alchemy.

"Ed!" He heard Winry scream, breaking his train of thought. "Are you listening!"?

"Oh, sorry Win, I just thinking…"

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**November 20, 1919--9:30 AM, **_**Rockbell Automail**_

Winry scoffed, "Ed you're _always_ thinking. It seems like you're lost in your own head most of the time… you're so distant sometimes." Her mind traveled back to the hospital room, to the time when Ed had just gotten Al's body back. Al was so thin and sickly, the doctors where afraid that he wouldn't wake up at all.

She remembered how distraught Ed was. How he closed himself off from everyone… even her. He was so depressed that he wouldn't talk, wouldn't eat. But then Al finally woke up and Ed-

She heard a thud.

"Ed?" She asked tentatively and was relieved when she heard a bark of laughter.

"Ow! Fuck! Sorry…" Ed snickered, "I'm such an idiot sometimes. I was walking around the phone and the chord wrapped around my legs…. So I fell." Winry giggled, joining him in the hilarity.

Winry let out a final titter as he mind focused on her earlier train of thought. When Al finally woke up, Ed was so grateful. His ominous mood dissipated once he got to wrap his arms around the slight Alphonse and see the look of delight the boy wore when he ate (although it was disgusting hospital food, not that Al really cared) real food for the first time in five years.

"Win, I need to tell…. Though…. You should bring someone…. Killer…" She tried to decipher Ed's broken speech.

"Ed, I think you pulled the chord out when you fell, I can't tell what you're saying."

"You…. Bring someone cause… killer on the loose!" Ed practically shouted.

"Oh! Alright… uh… I'll bring Paninya and Garfiel. I'm sure we can take down some psycho if they try kill us." Winry stated, slightly alarmed at the news of some depraved creep stalking the streets.

"No! Not Garfiel! He's…." Ed screamed, panicked.

"Calm down Ed. I'm sure Garfiel's gotten over his crush on you!… Actually, I think you're right… Me and Pan should be able to take him!"

"… Panin… sounds good… should get… Work... Late."

"Okay Ed! Remember to pick me up at the station!" With that, Winry hung up the phone and gave a happy shriek at the thought of seeing her two favorite people again.

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**November 20, 1919--9:50 AM, **_**Central Vantish Apartment Buildings**_

Ed heard the click on the other line as Winry hung up the telephone. He sighed and reached near his head for where his own phone had fallen when he crashed. He hung up, and still lying on the cold floor, he sighed. _I can't let my thoughts wander away like I did earlier! Winry'll find out how I feel… _he took a deep breath. _Would that really be so bad if I told her how I felt about her? What if she feels the same way? I'm finally done with the stone, I should be able to have something that I want…_ But then there was that nagging question, always ready at the back of his mind, _What if she doesn't feel the same way? Then our friendship'll be ruined, and it'll be my fault…_

He pushed his thoughts aside and began untangling the bindings around his legs. He would think more about it later, right now he had to get to work so the bastard wouldn't scream at him for being late… again…

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Sorry I made Ed so awkward, but that's how I would picture him talking to or about ANY girl… he he…

I really don't know what happened, all of the spacers between scenes got deleted, so I fixed them… I hope, at least : )

I wrote up till Chapter 3 already, so I should have it out soon, but I need to pace myself so you don't have to wait like 3 months between Chapter 3 and 4, ya know? (Well, that is if you liked this one and keep reading…)

Uh, if you guys would review it would inspire me to post the other chapters' sooner… k?


	2. Of Drunkenness and More Distress

**Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope**

**Disclaimer:** Again, I don't own FMA, I don't want to own FMA, because if I did I would probably be too lazy and ruin it… But I still like to play with the characters and make them go through traumatic situations (be it fun or serious)!

_**JUST A REMINDER: **__**Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language.**_

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_**Chapter 2: Of Drunkenness and More Distress**_

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**November 20, 1919--10:08 AM**_**, Central Headquarters**_

She held her head high and her back straight as she walked down the brightly lit hallway of Central Headquarters. She stopped in front of the grand oak doors that led to the Furher's office.

The woman took a deep breath, swept a strand of canary yellow hair behind her ears, readjusted the bun her hair was tightly wrapped in, and turned the elaborate brass knob.

As she strolled into the room she was welcomed by an annoyed voice. The blond woman peeked into an expansive, _expensive_ office at the handsome raven-haired man sitting comfortably in an elegant wooden, straight-backed (although the man was currently slouched while lazily playing with the phone chord between his long, slender fingers) chair and talking on the telephone.

The petite, yet firm woman quickly ducked out of sight when she saw the man's military blue clad body spring out of the chair and slam one strong gloved palm, the one currently unoccupied by a metal contraption, on the mahogany desk.

"What?! Another one! You can't be serious!" The man shouted angrily into the receiver, breaking the uncaring, lazy façade he normally presented to the world (the mask that could normally only be removed by the blond-haired woman when she was alone with him). He paused for a moment, the ivory fingers inside of the glove tapping an impatient rhythm on the table top, while he waited to be relayed more information from the person on the other side of the line.

The woman heard an exasperated sigh in the room next to her impressive office (being the Furher's secretary did have its perks, after all).

"You think an alchemist did this?… Yes I… I understand… I'll send my best men for the case… Alright… goodbye." He hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Riza, come in here please," The man focusing his somber, almost black eyes toward the open door where he saw the woman disappear earlier.

"Sir, do you really think you should be calling me 'Riza' in public? People will probably notice," stated Riza matter-of-factly.

"Well, we're alone now aren't we?" The man answered suggestively.

"Sir, now's not the time nor the place, besides you called me in here to talk about that phone call didn't you?" Hawkeye asked, slightly distressed by the thought of having to pull her gun out this early in the morning.

"Oh that, yeah, you've been hearing about the murders around central, right? Of course you have, well, it seems there's an alchemist involved now, or at least that's what the police seem to think. So, it falls under our jurisdiction, and I want you to call Davis and York to come-"

The dark-haired man's speech was cut short as the door banged open and a frazzled tawny-eyed man ran through the door.

"Sorry I'm late Mustang, I know I was supposed to report, but I was talking to Winry about…tomorrow," the panting Elric gasped, red-faced from the cold and from the conversation he had with the blond mechanic earlier.

"Major, that's supposed to be in two days, after you've used some of your vacation time, don't you remember, or can you not fit all that information in that _small_ head of yours… and that's _Fuhrer_ Mustang to you, Full Metal," the pleased Fuhrer taunted, smirking slightly.

"HEY! I'm taller than you now…_sir_." Ed snarled, barely able to maintain a respectful air, but still not losing his temper… that had to count for something right.

"In fact, just the other day, I trying to find a seat in the cafeteria, well, I was looking _over_ everyone's head and guess what I saw" Ed continued scathingly. "I spotted a certain_ person_ speaking to a very pretty serving lady, who was blushing pretty badly… I wonder what he was saying to her?" The blond boy asked, while an evil grin appeared on his face, gradually broadening until Mustang thought it would swallow his other features. All right, so there went his temper.

"Oh, Ms. Hawkeye, I didn't see you there, why don't _you_ ask him?" Ed supplied in mock surprise, as Riza glared daggers at the man sitting before them.

"Yes Roy Mustang, what _were_ you talking about?" Riza said as her mouth pulled into a grim line. Mustang's cool mask was slipping again and his dark eyes widened as he heard his name spill from her lips, she wouldn't use it in the office unless he was a dead man. That's when he saw her reach for her gun. Some one was going to die in the very near future.

"Riza you know how girls are around me! I can't help it! I didn't say anything to her, she just started talking to me and blushing…. She does that to everyone. I bet she even did it to the shrimp over there!" He told her, whining slightly while pointing to an angry Edward.

"Edward, maybe you should go, I don't want you to see this," The lemon-haired lady said, still looking at the panicked man in the priceless chair, and snapping of the safety off on her gun.

Ed hurried out of the room just as shots were heard in the hallway. He felt a little guilty, the girl did blush at everything anyone said to her, but the bastard deserved it.

The honey-haired man made his way home to prepare for Winry and Paninya's arrival, fully enjoying the thought of sleeping in the next day.

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**November 20, 1919--11:48 AM**_**, Central Headquarters**_

Mustang sat at his desk, nursing his bruised ego._ I'll have to get someone in here to fix the wall soon, or people will come in and think someone tried to assassinate me_, he laughed warily, knowing that it was half true. Relieved, he exhaled. He was a little surprised that none of the bullets in the wall behind him had gone into his flesh, but he knew Hawkeye was an excellent marksman.

After Ed had left, Mustang had finally been able to pacify his secretary by calling up his old gang, all now working in higher places as a reward for serving the current Fuehrer for such a long time, and asking them if the serving woman had ever made a pass at them. When Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery had said yes, Riza was immediately relieved. Although he had to thank Ed for something, Riza, after apologizing for doubting him, immediately set to work taking care of him.

Ah… here she was with his coffee now.

"Thank you… Ms. Hawkeye," Roy said carefully, still on edge and not wanting to anger the beautiful, but deadly she-demon with remarkable good aim any further.

"I also called Mr. York and Mr. Davis like you asked, but I was wondering why you didn't ask Edward to take the case instead? He could probably solve it more quickly than the others," Hawkeye asked with surprising tentativeness, Mustang guessed she was still embarrassed about the incident earlier.

"Oh, I don't want him to get involved, not just yet, not unless he has to. Edward takes everything so personally, and if someone else died under his supervision, it would kill him. I don't want to see him that depressed again," he said firmly, remembering Alphonse's thin body lying in the hospital and his brother, normally so strong, huddled over the almost lifeless boy, sobbing quietly.

"I see… sir, you might want to start that paperwork now, it'll take you forever if you don't," she turned to leave, but a hand caught her slim wrist and pulled gently on it, turning her to face the pale man.

"I really am sorry about earlier, Riza. I know I used to be a bit… promiscuous," a small smile formed on Riza's face, _a bit_ promiscuous "But you know that that was a long time ago, and I wouldn't do that to you. You can trust me." Roy uttered, his dark blue eyes boring into her red ones.

He released her hand, picked up his pen, and looked at the stack ominously. Riza decided to leave him to his work, she had to admit though, it was the first time that she almost wished he hadn't, but only so he could keep holding her.

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**November 21, 1919-- 11:32 AM**_**, Central Train Station**_

He's gotta be here! I told him yesterday morning to come pick us up," Winry yelled over the howl of the train whistle.

"Are you sure he's gonna remember, or what if he's busy and can't make it?" Paninya questioned, not entirely trusting Ed to come pick them up. She shivered and pulled her coat closer to her body, it was too cold in Central. She continued her line of thought as she and Winry battled their way through the massive train station towards the exit, "or what if he's just so small that we don't see him through all of the people?" She quipped, letting out a giggle, not liking the way her breath formed into a white mist. Air shouldn't be able to do that.

"You'd be surprised," Winry stated loyally, "he's grown a lot since the last time you saw him… Al too, he's still a little taller and Ed can't get over it!" Winry laughed and watched as her breath became a cloud of white in the cold air, then gradually dispersed upward toward the giant lavishly decorated station ceiling. That's when she saw him, just a flash of gold amongst the throng of people.

She had to admit though, he didn't exactly tower over the hordes of people, but she could see his eyes, glowing from the light pouring into the building, brighten even more as he spotted them.

"Pan! There he is!" Winry shouted gleefully to her friend, pointing in his direction. They both began forcing their way towards him, and saw him doing the same, if not a little more successfully.

When they bridged the gap between them, Winry tossed down her bags and lunged at Ed. Edward opened his arms to return the enthusiastic embrace, both of them breaking into joyful smiles. They hadn't seen each other in a while.

Paninya let them have five minutes, then she couldn't help but interrupt, teeth chattering, "Uh… Hey guys, are we gonna go soon. I know you two haven't seen each other in a long time and everything, but I'm freezing! You might be used to this, but I haven't left Rush Valley for years… Now I'm missing the sun and the rocks and the heat and…. Let's just go already, you can do this in the apartment!"

The two blonds stepped apart from each other quickly, their cheeks red, but not from the cold.

"Yeah, I'll get your bags, and let's get out of here!" Ed said, eyes focused on Winry's feet, determined not to look her in the eyes.

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**November 21, 1919-- 1:35 PM,**_** The Street Corner Next to Central Train Station**_

Once they got to the Havoc's car, which Ed had painstakingly begged to borrow, Winry and Paninya bundled up into the back seat, and Ed drove them away from the train station.

They were almost to the apartment, Paninya and Winry chattering in the back seat and Ed tossing in an occasional word, until Paninya piped up, "Ed, why don't you and Al have an apartment warming party? We could invite everyone over and have drinks… It'd be great!"

"Hell no!" He looked into the rearview mirror and saw Paninya's stricken face, then quickly explained, "Al and I have put so much work into that apartment, if anyone came over I know they would ruin it, especially if there was drinking involved!"

"Oh, well how about just us then?" Paninya asked, the smile returning to her face.

"I guess…" Ed said reluctantly.

"I could go buy the drinks and pay, that is if you'll loan me the car. Garfiel taught me how to drive last year!" Paninya triumphantly grinned at her accomplishment.

Ed cringed slightly at the thought of her driving, but accepted, he would need something to drink after they stayed with him anyway.

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**November 21, 1919-- 7:36 PM,**_** Central Vantish Apartment Buildings**_

Al was exhausted. He had spent all day at school, running around campus and now he just wanted to go to sleep. He yawned and tiredly rubbed his eyes, _I'm definitely looking forward to the weekend so I don't have to stay up studying,_ he thought, his mind sluggishly trying to process which door led to his apartment. _Oh, there 348_… He turned the knob and stepped into the room.

He walked down the hallway, past the visions of three blond children playing on the green hills of Rizembool hung on the wall, past the plush couch, which looked extremely tempting to the sleepy Alphonse, and past kitchen where his flaxen-eyed sibling and a straw-haired girl were playfully bickering. _Hmm… I wish brother and Winry would stop arguing so I could get some sleep… wait… Win…ry… WHAT?!_ His drooping eyes instantly sprang open and he ran to the kitchen.

He appeared in the doorway to find appliances strewn about the kitchen and batter sprayed across the counter… Ed and Winry must be cooking dinner together. Alphonse noticed their flour-covered faces were suspiciously close together. He vaguely wondered if they meant to cook the flour on their faces because their cheeks were each a bright blazing red. He cleared his throat and they sprang apart, both yelping slightly.

"AL!" They both yelled, surprised at the intrusion. Ed came over and, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, asked "When did you get home Al? We didn't even hear you come in."

Al looked at Ed, a knowing smile on his face, _I always knew that Ed liked Winry as more than a friend, and now I see Winry likes him the same way, I have to say something, right?_ But then he looked at Ed, who saw the smile and blanched, silently begging Al not to say anything. _I guess they haven't noticed yet… but it's not my place anyway, they should figure it out on their own_, He thought. _Besides I still owe brother for that phone call I left him with yesterday._

"So, what's for dinner?" He asked casually, deciding to change the subject and hearing Ed heave a sigh of extrication. He went over to Winry and gave her a tight hug. She returned it with joy. She was also pleased to see him.

"Actually, we were going to have a party! These are just like appetizers, you know, get your own," Winry exclaimed excitedly, her cerulean eyes gleaming with happiness.

"Where's Paninya?" Al questioned the occupants in the room. He had expected her to be at the apartment when he got home, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"She's getting drinks for us," Ed told him, eyeing Al warily as if expecting him to object.

"Brother, you have work tomorrow. You shouldn't be drinking. If you have too much then you'll have a hangover and Mustang will get mad," Al said annoyed by Ed's apparent lack of care for his employment.

"Calm down Al, we were just going to celebrate Winry and Paninya coming into town and our new apartment," Ed declared, exasperated. "You've been studying too hard anyways. You need to loosen up," Edward grinned prodding his pearly-eyed brother in the ribs, and Al could see the mischievous sparkle in his brother's eyes.

"Maybe just one drink…" Al trailed off uncertainly.

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**November 22, 1919-- 1:45 AM,**_** Central Vantish Apartment Buildings**_

Ed groaned, shifting his head under a pillow to get away from that disgusting screaming sound. It was not helping his hangover at all. He rolled over knowing there was only one way to stop the screech.

He got up from the carpet and stumbled over a body on the floor… He looked down blurrily and saw Winry's prone form lying unconscious on the ground. _What…Where are we?_ He saw the moon peaking in through the closed curtains, revealing the two other bodies on the living room carpet of Al and Paninya.

_Oh yeah, now I remember, the party. I guess Al was right, we shouldn't have drunk so much. I forgot to change into pajamas before I passed out._ Ed's disconnected thoughts continued lethargically, _I can't believe Paninya got Al to dance with her, he was blushing so much,_ Ed laughed drowsily… _Oh, yeah, and I danced with Winry… She's gonna be mad when she wakes up, ah, well… Works gonna suck…_

Ed's winced cursing quietly as another shriek pierced the air. Oh, right, that was why he had gotten up in the first place, wasn't it? He walked over to the phone and picked it up, effectively ending the disturbance.

"Wha'd ya wan'?" Ed answered, peeved.

"Full Metal, it's Mustang, I need you to come over immediately," was the stern reply he got.

"This a joke?" Ed asked irritably, drowsiness caking onto his words. He began again, his tired voice slurring, "I know you angry 'bout yest'day bu' why ya callin' a' two in th' mornin'?

"Ed, this isn't a joke. Just get over here NOW!" Ed had to hold the receiver away from his ears so as not to aggravate his pounding head even more.

"Why?" He asked again, getting impatient.

"You've heard about the murders right, well, there's been another killing and I need you to investigate. Go to Velition Street and talk to the police they'll tell you what happened," Ed hung up and snatched his navy, military coat off of the coat rack. He looked back at the sleeping forms of his brother and friends, thinking of waking them up, but decided against it, instead writing a note telling where he was going.

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YAY!! There's chapter 2 for ya! I hope everyone enjoyed it!

Sorry about the last paragraph, I just wanted to mess with you guys a little.. he he, did anyone think they were actually in trouble? Now the REAL action can really begin!!

By the way, I don't know the drinking age, so I said it was just 18, although I still wouldn't be able to drink if it was, which would suck….

At the cafeteria girl thing, I thought of just having Hawkeye call Havoc to check if she made a pass at him (cause he has A LOT of trouble with women), but I thought that was too mean, and Havoc deserves better… Havoc deserves a girlfriend.

So if you guys review I would love it so much (getting reviews is like petting a kitten to me, it makes me happy and want to write more… well it's sort of like petting a kitten)


	3. Of Mysteries and Catastrophe

Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope

**Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope**

**Disclaimer:** I love FMA, but sadly, I don't own it, but that's okay cause it would suck if I already knew what happens… and I would if I… had made it… but I didn't… so… yeah… thanks Hiromu Arakawa for making such an excellent series!

BEWARE: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS!! (You have been warned…)

**_JUST A REMINDER: Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language._**

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**_Chapter 3: Of Mysteries and Catastrophe_**

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**November 22, 1919-- 2:31 AM, ****_Velition Street_**

The cold winter air snatched at the man's hair, making the golden locks dance restlessly in the darkness. The chill from the wind seeped into his long overcoat, sending a tremor down his spine. As he passed the decrepit buildings of Central's low-income neighborhoods, he spotted the bright lights of the crime scene up ahead of him, cutting through the twilight.

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**November 22, 1919-- 2:33 AM, ****_Velition Street_**

Chief Dan Wilcore liked to think himself as composed and resourceful. He could deal with some of the most extreme cases without even breaking a sweat. But _this_…_ this_ was something he _couldn't_ cope with. But if there was any chance of saving another person, he sure as hell was gonna try.

_Another murder… Just another murder_, or at least that's what one of the officers had said (Dan guessed he hadn't been the one to find the body). The young captain was expecting blood, and, as the other murders suggested a lot of the victim's _insides_ coming… _out_, but what he wasn't expecting was the victim's entire body to be so completely, absolutely…_desecrated_.

"Hey chief! Here's the guy now," his partner, Tommy Angsley called, waving his wrinkled hands in the air, frantically trying to get his partners attention while still trying, in vain, to keep the wind from grabbing his sparse hair.

Dan frowned. _About time_, he though, irritated. He had been disappointed with the Fuhrer's choice of "agents",_ what were they're names… oh, right, York and Davis_. The two idiots had just strutted around the body, spewing crap the police already knew.

Dan exhaled in frustration; he was expecting the military alchemists to be a bit more… competent. The curly haired man leaned against the wall, cursed, then jumped away, thinking it was best not to get the blood from the walls on his coat. He hoped this new kid was better than those other bastards sent earlier.

Dan looked up as he heard the uneven footsteps of the newcomer echoing on the frosty pavement. His emerald eyes peered through the darkness, only to be greeted by glowing eyes of gold, which were reflected from the street lamps. He blinked in surprise. _Fullmetal?! _

So, maybe the Fuhrer did know what he was doing. With the Fullmetal Alchemist working the case Dan could go home. He'd be able to sleep through the night without being called out of his warm bed to run through the artic streets after some psychotic maniac.

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**November 22, 1919-- 2:45 AM, ****_Velition Street_**

The first thing Edward noticed was the reeking, rotting smell that encased the scene, the second thing he noticed was red. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at the thick red coat of blood slung over the alley walls. Then Ed saw a tall (_maybe_ an inch or two above himself… at the very most) man, with a dense tangle of jet-black hair, which he assumed to be Chief Wilcore, standing amongst the pools of crimson. The blond man noticed that the Chief's shoes were turning from a crisp, shiny black, to a dull, rusted brown from trudging through the puddles of gore.

The man stalked over to Edward, his boots making a sickening squelching sound as he went, splattering the grisly liquid across the asphalt.

"I'm glad you're here Full Metal! I thought you weren't gonna show," Ed's eyes jerked away from the ground and focused on the Chief.

"Yeah, sorry it took so long Chief, I had a hard time getting up, then I kinda… got lost," Ed admitted sheepishly, then told the man, " It's freezing out here. I'm amazed you guys aren't Popsicles_(1)_ yet."

The dark-haired man snorted, and clapped Ed on the shoulder. He noticed the shorter man's wince and asked, concerned, "What's wrong? You all right?"

"Yeah… I just… My friends came into town and we were celebrating. I guess I went a little overboard…" The blond man chuckled tiredly.

Dan smiled kindly. "It's probably good that you had something to drink before you came… You might need it, but… how did you get here anyway?" The hulking man's questioning suddenly becoming stern, and he used his height to tower over the smaller man threateningly.

Ed's golden eyes opened from the tired slits they were resting in and he waved his palms in front of himself in panic. "No! Don't worry! We started at seven and I already slept most of it off! I just drove here and parked a couple of blocks away… I thought the cold would help me wake up," Ed explained quickly, trying to soothe the officer of any doubts.

Dan narrowed his eyes and looked Ed up and down as his mouth formed into a hard line. He rolled his eyes, thinking better than to get into this now and waved his hand in impatience, beckoning the alchemist to come with him. "The body is this way… or what's left of it," the headman announced grimly. "You better be prepared. It's not a pretty sight."

They sloshed through the carnage to a corner of the alleyway. Ed could feel his stomach convulse as his eyes ran over the corpse. He noted that the woman, or he figured a woman judging by the face, may have been pretty, beautiful even, once, but now her allure was lost in the expanse of fluids.

His eyes trailed down her torso, watching the gradual process of blonde hair turning red as he went. His stare rested on the gap below her stomach where her legs should be. His aurous eyes continued across the red floor, noticing her intestines were spread across the ground… and everywhere else for that matter. Stray beams of moonlight spread across the ground making the slick organs, spilled from the victim's bowels, glisten and glitter, like some kind of demented wonderland.

He cringed when he spotted her lower half, modestly covered with a flower-printed skirt, splayed on the dirt. Her legs, splattered with gore, was sticking out at odd angles, _obviously broken_, his mind concluded. He shuddered, but the scientific part of his brain forced him to scrutinize the gruesome scene, looking for any hint to whom could have done this.

"I'll stay here until you're done… I don't really want to leave you when there's a killer out there," Wilcore told the blond quietly. The taller man looked down at the alchemist, noticed his eyes fixated on the severed limbs and said sadly, "I told you it wasn't a pretty sight."

"Yeah, and thanks," the golden-haired alchemist uttered to the officer, and allowed his eyes to dart back to the woman's head, still trying to see anything that could give a clue. His eyebrows knit together in disgust and he had to look away from her ashy, terror stricken face when he noticed that she had to be around Al's age.

His eyes strayed to her throat where he saw snowy white petals and emerald leaves resting against her waxen skin. "Why are there flowers? Did someone come by and see her or something?" Ed asked, confused.

"No, he's been leaving them with all the victim's he kills. There's not even a pattern to his murders, they're just girls, any girls. But at least we know it's the same guy for every killing…" Dan stated morosely.

Ed turned his luminous stare towards the rooftops, searching for a way in which the murderer could have ambushed the girl or escaped. His eyes scanned each building surrounding the vicinity, carefully looking for any trace of evidence. His gaze snagged abruptly when he saw something move. He peered closer and could make out a silhouetted figure in the blackness.

"Is there anyone else working tonight?" Edward questioned as he felt his heart start fluttering in his chest with anticipation.

"No, I don't think-"

A coat whipping his face and the sound of boots quickly exiting the alley interrupted the chief.

"Wha? Wait! Where are you going?!" He called after the blond, watching his broad back recede in the night.

"Tommy! We can't just let him go on his own! He's gonna get himself killed!" Dan called frantically to his subordinate, and they immediately gave chase.

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**November 22, 1919-- 3:40 AM, ****_Central City_**

_I can't see anything…_ Ed thought with unease, as he scrambled up a fire escape, trying not to miss the thin rungs of the ladder in the darkness.

He had seen that person over here somewhere, it was right over the alley, but the shadow figure was nowhere to be seen. Then he saw it. It was just a flash of movement, caught in the shreds of moonlight through the overcast sky, but it was enough. He began the pursuit again, hoping this time to catch the man.

He leapt onto another roof and looked around trying to make out any forms in the slim lighting. He saw the movement again and grinned to himself. _Caught ya…_ Ed thought, excited that the case would be over so soon. He wanted to sneak up on the man so he could easily overpower the deranged person. Ed melted into the shadows behind a big heater on the roof of the dilapidated building, his movements' fluid, practiced, silent.

His body tensed for the fight and he raised his metal fist to deliver a more powerful blow. Edward's lithe form quickly pivoted out of the inky cover, and he struck at the figure's thin form.

Sharp stinging pain lashed at his face and he quickly covered his head to protect himself.

He groped through the obscurity, shielding his skull with a metal hand, and swinging at the air with the other. But the assault was over. He brought his head out from the protective crook in his arm and looked around hurriedly, scouring the area for his unknown assailant.

He brought his hand to his face and felt a hot liquid seeping through the cotton of his glove. He raised his fingers to the light and saw red. _Blood… But how…_ He checked the skin on his face again and found a few small gashes on his pale cheek.

The blond looked toward the place the figure had just inhabited and found a pile of broken resplendent shards reflecting in the sparse glow of the moon. He bent down and picked up one of the sharp points, turning it over in his palm. _Glass…?_ He looked in the shining metal and saw an eye, a tawny eye staring back at him with the same perplexed expression. _A mirror? What?_

He straightened, still holding the reflecting piece between his metal fingers. He looked around himself again briefly and spotted a half concealed face below on the street. The figure fixed him with an unyielding, angry gaze.

"Hey! Don't move! I'm coming down!" Ed shouted in bewilderment, as thick pearly puffs of air vanished in the night.

Edward ran to the fire escape and jumped down the platforms to the floor. He turned onto the street only to find the man gone. His eyes frantically searched the area, trying to find the man in black again. He was rewarded with a fleeting view of a cloak disappearing down another alley. Ed dashed after the man with as much speed as he could muster in his almost frozen body.

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**November 22, 1919-- 3:40 AM, **_**Central City**_

Their gasping breaths could be heard throughout the street. "I can't… run anymore! We… have to… stop," Tommy Angsley panted, and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"No, that kid… is still out there, he could be in trouble," Dan exclaimed, trying to push his exhausted partner into movement, but failing.

"He's been doing this…. Since he was… five or something… he'll be… fine," Angsley protested, wheezing now that he had started to catch his breath.

Their heads jerked up when they heard a crash overhead followed by a tinkling of glass on pavement.

"Oh, right, he'll be fine, _just_ fine," Dan snarled angrily to the puffing officer.

"Alright fine! Let's… get moving again… then, but I'm gonna kill you if the kid… has caught that bastard," Tommy cried. He groaned as Wilcore began racing down the road again, and began shuffling after him, huffing with each step.

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**November 22, 1919-- 4:20 AM, ****_Central City_**

The smell attacked him. It slammed up his nose and destroyed his senses. His stomach churned and he emptied the contents of Winry's "get your own" dinner onto the freezing ground. He wiped his mouth on the back of his glove and breathed in shallow gulps of putrid air. He almost reached again, but controlled the impulse by breathing through his open mouth.

The blond man looked down into the darkness of the alley to see blood splattered across the floor, surrounding another gored body. He saw the man standing amongst the innards. The man's shoulders were rising and falling in a fast rhythm, and the panting boy at the mouth of the alley smirked; pleased to see the man was as disheveled as him.

He stalked toward the dark figure, determination in his eyes. He was going to end this now. His eyes narrowed when he saw the man advance towards him, _so he's not giving up as easily as I thought_. He continued on, preparing himself for the upcoming battle. The man seemed to have the same idea kept moving forward.

Edward decided instead to let the man come to him, so he fell into a defensive stance, raising his shoulders and arms to fight off the oncoming enemy.

The man did the same. _Wha…?_

Ed let his shoulders drop and the man mimicked his action. The blond raised his left hand and the doppelganger raised his right. _Another mirror…?_

Ed frowned and cautiously moved forward, watching as the shadowy figure did the same. When he arrived at the spot where the man was standing he slowly reached out with his mechanical hand and heard a small click as metal hit glass. He sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes, then looked up to see the figure repeating the same motion.

Edward looked down at the body lying on the ground and noticed a movement to his left. He sprang up and growled in frustration when the figure did the same. _So another one, huh…?_ He thought, annoyed.

He turned back to the body, but caught a sudden movement that he hadn't made in the reflecting glass to his left. He jumped out of his crouching position, but stumbled as a sharp blow hit the back of his neck.

Ed lurched back up to fight again, but his vision began to blur and darken as he fought to stay conscious.

"I've been waiting such a long time to meet you, Edward," the blond heard the man chuckle cruelly. He tried to glance up at the man's face and saw a flash of white, before everything went black.

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_(1)_Popsicles(c) were accidentally invented in 1905 by 11-year-old Frank Epperson. It wasn't until 1923 that they really became popular, but you guys can play along… right…? (This was only in our world anyways! : )

YAY!! Thanks so much to the thesaurus! I would never have been able to come up with so many words for blood without you!! That was actually really hard and depressing to write… yuck… EW shivers with the heepy-jeebys… yeah, I'm a bit disturbed that that came out of my head… : (

And, I told you so about the warning! (and trust me, it'll get worse. HAHAHA!) La de da de da… I don't know if it should be teen anymore (What do you guys think?), but I'm definitely gonna change the Mystery/Humor now, cause the story's gonna change become a little more intense…

It would really cheer me up if you guys reviewed (and trust me after writing that, I really need something happy to remove the dark cloud over my head). So please, for the sake of my sanity…. REVIEW!!

See ya next time if you are still reading! (which I hope everyone will!!) Couldn't keep up with everyone reviewing, so I'm not doing that anymore… so sorry… : (


	4. Of Kidnappings and Tense Happenings

**Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope**

**Disclaimer:** Again, if you didn't already guess… I don't own the characters of FMA, the landmarks and cities that were beautifully created in FMA, or the cute little kitties that Al likes to carry around in FMA… to sum it up I OWN NOTHING IN, PERTAINING TO, OR HAVING ANYTHING TO DO WITH FMA!! All the credit goes, of course, to Hiromu Arakawa… but I still like to play with it…. he he…

_**JUST A REMINDER: Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language.**_

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_**Chapter 4: Of Kidnappings and Tense Happenings**_

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**November 22, 1919--1:40 PM****_, Central Headquarters_**

"Alphonse, slow down, I can hardly understand what you're saying," the raven-haired Fuhrer said, having a hard time interpreting the slurs of the younger man, and not entirely sure that Al was completely sober at the moment.

"It's brother… He left las' night and didn't come home. I donno where he s'at, Is he there?" The man on the line all but pleaded.

Mustang furrowed his brows in confusion. "He didn't go home? Well, he's not on vacation time anymore, but I didn't expect him at the office. I thought he'd be sleeping after he finished his work. Are you positive he's not there? You could have missed him if he fell through the cracks of the couch…" A dashing smirk appeared on Mustang's ivory face when he heard a small, reluctant chuckle from the receiver.

"Don't worry Alphonse, he's probably picked up a lead on the case and forgot to call. You know he doesn't pay attention to anything else when he's focused on something. He'll most likely come home any minute asking for food." Mustang heard an uncertain agreement from the bronze-haired boy followed by an apologetic farewell. He hung up the phone and looked at the work to be done by the end of the day.

The dark-eyed man frowned and heaved a sigh, looking at the big stack of paperwork splayed across the deep mahogany of his desk. He didn't mind Alphonse calling if it meant escaping a couple minutes of the tedious work that sat before him. And it would be just his luck if Hawkeye came in to deliver even more work for him to sign. As if a higher power, set out to destroy any relaxing moments he could enjoy in the day, granted the demented, twisted, hellish wish of an enemy, he heard the small creak of a neglected door turning on its hinges.

"Sir, I have more paperwork for you to sign," the commanding voice of his lover announced.

He quickly bit back a groan when he caught sight of the gun resting against her hip. _I bet I could get away with not doing paperwork if that monster wasn't there, laughing at me from her hip… or if nothing was on her hips…_ His head fell onto his hand as a lazy smile spread over his face while he allowed his thoughts to escape from the confines of the office to the warm cuddling on a cold winter day, the hot, sweaty nights when Riza would gasp his name, the-

The movement was almost so fast that he didn't catch it. He just saw a flash of black and felt three shots fly passed him in quick succession, one barely missing the sensitive cartilage of his ear.

"Damn it Hawkeye! You could have hit me!" He growled, only to see the steely smile of the red-eyed woman standing across from him.

"You're right, I could have. Besides, I saw that smile, you think I don't know what you're thinking about?" She said strictly, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "You know we can't let anyone know about this, about us, yet. They'd probably have us both fired if they thought we were doing something besides working, and then how would you 'change the country for the better and help the people' when you won't even be able to get a decent job?"

"But we are working, that's _all_ we do," Mustang scowled.

"Well, the other officers wouldn't think so, those perverts, they'd probably get us on _something_," she said sternly.

Mustang frowned and looked away… She was right, but he didn't have to be happy about it. _I'll just have to be more careful with my daydreaming_, he thought hotly, about to let a leer cross his handsome features, but wisely thinking better after taking a furtive glance at the gun still held in the blond woman's hand.

They both jumped when a timid knock was heard from the door leading to the outside corridor. Hawkeye raised one eyebrow and gave the man sitting at the desk a significant look of _'See, I always know what's best'_ with her red eyes before leaving the room to let the person into the office.

Mustang couldn't help but grudgingly agree with Hawkeye's logic as he heard two feminine voices greeting each other in the grand hallway. He sat straighter in his chair and tried to appear professional as he heard the voices approach.

Riza arrived at the door leading Scieszka into the room, and the mousy woman gave a quick bow to the Fuhrer, whipping her thin brown hair into the air in the process.

"Hello, Mr. Fuhrer, sir, I just came by to drop off some reports that you asked for," Scieszka replied, embarrassed and not fully meeting the Fuhrer's eyes.

"Oh, yes, thank you Miss Scieszka," Roy said firmly, but awkwardly, still not completely used to the title.

Roy waved his hand in dismissal and she gave another quick bow, and scampered away. He looked at the documents in his hands. _York and Davis, what a disappointment,_ he thought, annoyed. He had been angry to hear that they were of no help. They didn't do their job and they made him look incompetent.

Mustang grimaced and pushed their files under the immense load of paperwork already towering on the desk. He would deal with them later. He looked up when he heard the floorboards protest and saw Hawkeye already exiting the room.

"Hawkeye," she paused in the doorway. "It's probably nothing, but Alphonse says Edward didn't show up at home this morning."

"Maybe he just found something on the case. If you're worried I can go call some-"

Mustang put his hand up to silence her interrupting her train of thought.

"That's what I told Alphonse, but I don't think he would leave without telling anyone. And I wouldn't do anything unless he's gone for a couple of days," he added regretfully.

"He can take care of himself, sir," Hawkeye said, seeing that even Roy Mustang needed reassurance sometimes.

Roy let a quick smile pass over his features, "You're right, he's probably in the mess hall now. Thank you Hawkeye."

She turned to go, but looked back at the Fuhrer one last time, seeing that he was already turned toward the window, looking out at the bright sky.

_Daydreaming already…_ she thought, aggravated. She reached for her gun, but rolled her eyes instead, thinking the dark-eyed man had to deal with enough stress for today.

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**November 22, 1919--2:30 PM****_, Central Headquarters_**

The phone trilled again, vibrating the desk, until the blond-haired woman picked it up.

"Hello, Fuhrer's office," she answered automatically.

"Hey, this is Chief Wilcore, I need to speak with the Fuhrer, it's an emergency, it's about Fullmetal," was the desperate reply.

Hawkeye felt her stomach fill with dread, like some icy, unpleasant liquid blocking the path to her veins, leaving her body numb. She hoped it wasn't what she thought it was. Edward hadn't been missing for long; he had dealt with murderers and psychos before, there was no way that he could…

"One moment please," she whispered into the phone, and then stood, put the telephone on the table and walked down the long hallway to the Fuhrer's office.

She gave three firm knocks on the door. The blond woman heard the affirmative for her to come in and, before the door was fully open, stated, "There's a phone call for you from Chief Wilcore, and it sounds urgent."

He nodded and picked up the metal device on his desk while waving her out into the hall.

She walked slowly back down the intricate carpet, not seeing the details, not thinking of the waste of funds that had been paid for it, her only thoughts were on the blond boy she had grown to care for over the years.

She sat at her desk and picked up the telephone, about to hang it up, but instead deciding to place it against her ear.

_"What do you mean you lost him," came Roy's scathing reply._

_"The kid saw something and just ran off, Angsley and I tried following after him, but he was too fast. Then we heard glass breaking, but we couldn't find him," said Wilcore, trying to justify himself._

_"When was it?" Roy asked, still furious._

_"Around three in the morning," Dan stated, trying to stay professional, but clearly nervous of the Fuhrer's wrath._

_"What! What the hell took you so long? Why didn't you call sooner?" Mustang snarled quietly, trying to keep Hawkeye from hearing him down the hall._

_"We just wanted to be absolutely sure that we checked everywhere before we called," Dan said after a long pause._

She heard Roy take a deep breath and exhale slowly.

_"Thank you for calling, I appreciate that you spent the time looking for him, but I'll take over from here," Mustang said tiredly._

Riza pulled the phone away from her ear and gently hung it up. She inhaled, trying to calm her shot nerves. So he wasn't dead… At least, not yet…

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_**November 22, 1919-- 1:40 PM**_**_Central Vantish Apartment Buildings_**

The silver-eyed boy placed the phone in its rightful place on the small table. He pulled his knees up on the fluffy couch, so he could rest his throbbing head on them, and then wrapped his tan arms around himself. _Brother would have at least called if he were going to stay out all day._ He thought fretfully.

The hastily scrawled note left on the floor telling that his brother would be back soon was not at all able to pacify the worried, hung over boy.

The sound of two high voices and the delicious smell of breakfast were leaking from the kitchen. _I'll go see what they're talking about once the room stops spinning._ Al thought, wondering how the women just a couple feet away had escaped from the painful grip of the aftereffects of the alcohol.

"Al! Come in here, your food'll get cold," he heard Winry's cry drifting out of the kitchen to the russet-haired man's ears.

Alphonse painfully got up from the couch, each bone in his back protesting with a small crack. _Sleeping on the floor last night was not a good idea,_ he thought staring at the thick carpet under his feet with a small pout. He shuffled into the kitchen, noticing the warm fabric of the carpet turning to the hard, cold tile.

"Al, you don't look so good," Paninya joked as Al flopped into his chair at the table.

Alphonse crossed his arms and scowled, saying, "I don't get how you guys are completely normal? How come I'm the only one who has a hang over?" He whined, clutching his head when a sharp pain erupted behind his eyes. He was never going drink again.

"We've had more experience with beer, Al," Winry chirped, then felt bad when Al scrunched his eyes in agony. "And besides, you were out of your body for a long time and now it has to get used to all these new things," the lemon-haired girl said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"And who says we aren't hung over?" Paninya chimed in stretching her hands over her head. Winry and Alphonse grimaced in empathy when small pops came from her spine and echoed through the room. Al looked at Paninya as the dark-skinned girl's lean body was bent over the chair in her enormous stretch. He blushed and quickly looked down at his plate.

A pair of enormous yellow eyes stared wide-eyed up at him while the plate's bacon mouth grinned at him mockingly. He broke the plate man's pupils and watched the eyes slowly begin to well up, and then a fat stream of yolk tears began oozing slowly down its face until the plate was covered in a thick yellow liquid.

Alphonse pushed the crying slab of glass away from him and stood up. He felt sick. The bronze-haired boy didn't know if it was from the hangover or from worry. He hoped it was the former. But, then, the breakfast felt like a bad omen, he felt as if something were about to swoop down on his head and snatch everything away from him.

Al pushed his chair out and stood up, clutching his head to keep the dull throb under control. "I'm going out to the balcony," he announced unsteadily, trying to keep himself from vomiting on the tabletop.

He walked through the apartment and stopped before a transparent wall of glass. He slid it open and stepped out into the sun's rays. The crisp air whistled through the thin black poles on the balcony, then wrapped itself around his lean form and ran it's chilly fingers through his brown hair. _I feel better already,_ he thought as he took a deep breath, filling his sinuses and alcohol-muddled brain with clean air.

He looked onto the great expanse of Central and began to let his worry dissipate. His brother would be back. His brother had to come back. Edward wouldn't leave Alphonse all alone. Never.

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_**November 21, 1919-- 2:10 PM,**_**_Central Vantish Apartment Buildings_**

Winry and Paninya watched him go, concern etched into their features.

"Maybe I should go out and talk to him," Winry said hesitantly.

"No, you eat, I'll go talk to him, you cooked breakfast, so I'll take over," Paninya said quickly. Winry looked surprised but soon recovered and a small smile began to form on her face.

Paninya could feel splotches of red coloring her cheeks, _I never was very dainty at blushing, oh what the hell am I saying, I'm not very dainty, period,_ she thought with a snort and rushed out of the room, shouting over her shoulder, "really Winry, it's nothing, he's probably just worried. I'll be back in a sec."

She sprinted to the sliding glass, desperately trying to hide the growing redness on her face, when she looked out of the window at Alphonse. His reddish hair was dancing in the breeze and had turned a soft golden color in the bright sunshine. His head was turned while he looked toward Central's towering buildings, giving the dark-eyed woman the perfect view of his intense, sterling gaze and strong, defined jaw.

Paninya felt her heart start pounding in her ears as she fought the urge to pounce on the man and devour him with kisses. She shook her head and tried to think of anything to get her mind off the muscular young man standing within right within her reach. _Hmm… That time I caught Garfiel making out with that customer outta work… I've been trying to get that out of my head for years, but at least I have a use for it now,_ she thought, shuddering at the memory… that definitely had it's desired affect, she took a deep breath, completely filling her lungs, let it out slowly, and slid the glass open.

"Hey, I was wondering if you're feeling alright… you left in a hurry back there. Winry's cooking isn't that bad, is it?" She joked, joining Alphonse on the platform.

Alphonse jumped and looked around, then scratched the back of his head and laughed, "No, it's okay most of the time, I just don't feel like eating."

Al made room for her by the railings and they both sat down, sliding their legs through the widely spaced rungs, letting them dangle freely in the cold wind. Paninya looked down through the bars and blanched slightly when she noticed how alarmingly high they were off of the ground.

"So, are you okay?" Paninya asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Yeah, I'll be all right… I just have to get over this hangover," Al said sheepishly.

"Oh… Ya know, you shouldn't be worried about him, I'm sure he's fine," she ventured. Alphonse looked at her in surprise, and then looked towards Central again, his expression growing troubled.

"Everyone's been saying that, 'I'm sure he's fine'," he huffed angrily, clearly getting annoyed.

"Because it's probably true, and if you get all worried over nothing than that's a huge waste of energy," the dark-eyed girl said earnestly. _Besides_, she thought, _I could think of a much better way to use that energy. _Her head quickly filled with ways of keeping the younger alchemist busy and worry free. She caught herself, then turned away hastily from Al to regain her composure.

"I guess you're right. It's just not like brother to leave for hours and not tell anyone where he went. But you're right, brother'll probably walk through the door right… about… now", Paninya faced him again just as he was straitening up and obviously listening hard to hear the creak of their apartment door and the deep voice of his brother.

When there was no sign of Edward coming, Alphonse propped his head on his hand and cast his eyes downward. "It doesn't mean I can't still worry though."

They both looked up when they heard the ringing of the telephone coming from inside the apartment.

"That's probably him now," Paninya said confidently, grinning like a maniac and elbowing Al in the ribs, thoroughly enjoying their closeness.

The duo sitting on the balcony heard Winry sing out a greeting into the device. They listened as she exchanged pleasantries with the person on the other line. Then they heard her next sentence get interrupted by a low, urgent male voice.

"What?! What do you mean 'missing'? We have to find him," the dark-haired girl and the bronze-haired boy heard Winry gasp in a small, panicked tone. They sprang out of their relaxing positions and darted into the room to find Winry clutching the phone and looking entirely lost.

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**November 22, 1919-- **_**Central City**_

_Mmm… my head… hurts… I shouldn't drink so much… next time…_

The man's senses slowly returned to him. Something smelled awful, and the only thing he could hear was a steady stream of _drip…drip…drip_, each splatter pounding into his head like a sledgehammer, making the agony of his throbbing skull worse with each strike.

He opened his tawny eyes slowly, trying to keep the vertigo at bay. Two heavily made up, lifeless green eyes met his and he jumped back with a yell, only to find his hands manacled to each arm of an old leather armchair, preventing him from touching his palms together. He looked around the small, blood-splattered concrete room, avoiding the woman's dead stare… well; this definitely wasn't in his apartment.

He peered through the dim lighting again at the dead girl resting on a raised wooden table and tried to move his wrists out of the steel restraints, dread pooling in his stomach when they firmly stayed in place. He tried to stand, but the ancient chair wouldn't budge. _I guess it's been attached to the ground_, he lamented, letting a small whine claw its way out of his throat.

"I see you've met my pretty pet," a scratchy voice echoed out of the darkness. The golden-haired man could hear the footsteps of the strange man resound throughout the windowless room, but the figure stopped just before he entered the light, forming an even darker silhouette than the blackness surrounding him.

"Then again, you've already met once in the alley, but how very rude of me, I must formally introduce the two of you," the figure said playfully. The obscured man reached his hand into the light and placed it on the corpses head. He ran his fingers gently through her long brown hair and leaned next to her ear whispering loud enough for the alchemist to hear, "Sarah, this is Edward, he'll be my new playmate for a while, and so I don't really need you anymore."

Edward took a better look at the girl and saw that the steady dripping noise had been her blood, leaking out of her middle to form a puddle, which had been consistently splattering the floor with more gore. The man patted her cheek carefully then put his hands under her stomach and dumped her onto the floor. Edward heard the sharp crack of her skull breaking when she made contact with the hard ground.

"Why do you want me?" Ed questioned angrily. "You've only been going after girls. I don't understand."

The figure took a step into the light so Edward could half of his pale, ghostly face. "Because you're such a handsome boy and I would _love_ to take that away from you. You see, I've been searching for you for a long time, and now that I've finally found you, I can stop playing with these other little girls," the man said mockingly, and then started walking slowly toward Ed, each step bringing him closer to the angry blond.

"You still haven't said why you wanted me," gasped the incapacitated boy, trying to play for time.

"Oh, Edward, I can't tell you now, that would ruin the fun… Besides I can't let you in on any of my secrets, well, not yet."

The honey-haired man growled warningly as the silhouetted man came nearer to the leather chair, his cloak catching the light, making the blackness of the fabric look like a frenzied demon ready to strike. He entered the light fully and Edward saw that the man was wearing an intricately designed mask, which was almost as white as his face, the porcelain of the cover concealing half of his skull.

"Get away," Ed snarled, snapping his teeth at the man.

The phantom man stepped close to Edward and bent down to meet his eyes. "And don't worry, I'm sure I'll find something to keep us entertained so you won't die, well, at least not of boredom anyway," he chortle viciously.

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I just know I'm gonna run out of titles for the chapters soon… oh dear… : (

Sorry it took so long, I just have too much to do lately…

Alcohol plus Sleep deprivation plus Sleeping on the floor equals Cranky Alphonse!

And Reviews equals LOVE!!

(Happy Valentines Day! I'll send extra love to reviewers!… whatever that means)


	5. Of Preparing and Despairing

**Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope**

**Disclaimer:** nothing, nothing, NOTHING… - This is what I own of FMA (although I do own the crazy psychopath, not that that's necessarily a good thing, but that's really it…). Thank you Hiromu Arakawa, for making your series. It _is_ fun to play with. : 3

**_JUST A REMINDER: _****_Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language._**

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**_Chapter 5: Of Preparing and Despairing_**

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**November 23, 1919-- ****_Central City_**

Tired golden eyes groggily opened to a colorless cement ceiling. _How long have I been here? What time is it…?_ The yellow-haired man though dazedly. He lifted his head from the back of the chair and peered around the concrete box he was confined in, but there were no windows to indicate the time, only darkness. The man heaved frustrated sigh and let his face fall forward onto his chest.

His amber gaze trailed down the arm of the leather chair, finally stopping to view the slight twitch of the fingers on his flesh hand as they futilely attempted to escape the strong bonds on his wrist. He let his eyes wander to the other leather arm of the chair were his metal hand rested.

He blinked uncomprehendingly when he only caught sight of red fabric. _Where's my hand?_ He frowned and tried to move his metal palm. Panic settled in his stomach when he got no response from the automail. _Maybe it just got banged around too much… _He jerked his shoulder and tried to connect the steel arm back into his socket. Sick realization washed over him when he didn't feel any movement in his entire arm.

"Oh, Edward, nice to see that you're awake." The shackled man's tawny head shot up in time to see the masked figure appear from the shadows.

"Where's my arm," Ed growled menacingly.

The pale man laughed, "I've seen what you can do with those tricky hands of yours and I can't very well let them get in the way of the fun we're going to have, so I just took one from you while you were snoozing. Now, I really should go and get us some breakfast, you must be hungry, so I'll be back in one second."

The tall man turned to go, his dark cape swirling around his knees. "Wait! Why did you come down here if you're just going to leave?" Ed called to the man's thin back.

"I just wanted to see your reaction when I took something important from you. And I must say it was _very_ entertaining… I'll just have to try it again sometime soon," The man flashed a quick, maniacal grin in the boy's direction and slowly drifted out of the sparse light into the shadows again.

"Hold on," Ed cried suddenly. He heard the sound of footsteps stop, then an exasperated exhale from the blackness.

"What?" was the annoyed response.

"I need to pee," Ed stated, feeling his cheeks flush.

"You… what?" The silhouette asked in disbelief.

"I need. To take. _A piss_… Although, I could just go on myself if you don't want to let me out… But that wouldn't be very _fun_ for either of us, now would it?" The blond boy let a smirk creep across his face as he heard the hidden man snarl angrily.

The man emerged from the darkness, stalking over to the alchemist, his thin lips, from what Ed could see of his face, curved upward as he gnashed his teeth together. He grabbed the boy's tan chin and pulled a black scarf from his pale hand.

"How di-" Ed managed to gasp before the fabric was roughly stuffed into his mouth. Once Edward's mouth had been gagged, the man proceeded to simultaneously pull more scarves out of his ivory hands to bind the blond, tying the thick strips around the rest of his limbs.

When Edward's arms were secured to his waist and his feet were firmly knotted together, the mysterious man unlocked the steel manacles and pulled Ed out of his wooden prison. Ed stumbled as he was led to a corner of the room, the fabric making his movements jerky and awkward.

Ed, still slightly uncoordinated, was shoved into the corner of the small cement room. He looked around the impenetrable box he was being held in, searching for a door, but everywhere he looked, he only saw shadows, as if the entire room was lost in the impenetrable night.

While he was standing in the corner, Edward mumbled into the scarf, trying to get the man's attention.

"What do you want now?" The enshrouded wraith of a man asked, already annoyed with the boy's "games". He let his pale hand glide elegantly to the young man's mouth and pluck the silky fabric from between his teeth.

"Well, I can't go with you watching," Ed said giving up on his quest to find the exit, and instead gazing innocently at the masked man with big caramel eyes.

The ghostly man let a frustrated growl emerge from his throat and echo throughout the room.

"Guess, I'll just have make due," Ed sighed despairingly, seeing that the man was obviously getting fed up with him. He looked upward as he heard a splatter of liquid hit the dirty ground. He let his yellow eyes drift slowly across the ceiling, noting that it was as covered in blood as the table the girl, Sarah, had lay on not long ago. _What has this psycho got planned for me anyway…?_

When the flow of urine subsided, the tall man quickly pulled up the zipper of Edward's military pants and began to lead him back to the leather chair. Ed tried to resist, but the man was surprisingly strong and without the use of his hand or feet, Ed couldn't push him away.

Thick metal bands were locked back into place around Ed's wrists and ankles, successfully preventing him from escape.

Once the flaxen-haired man was seated and strapped down, the pale apparition leaned down, looking Ed in the eyes, "Edward, since we've already played one of your games, we might as well play one of mine… That is, if you want you're breakfast still."

The man chuckled, then disappeared into the shadows once more, his cape sweeping behind him.

Edward leaned his head against the back of the chair to wait until the lunatic returned with his food. His head snapped upward as he heard a gentle squeak coming from the blackness. It slowly grew louder until a large table appeared followed by the black-clad man. The man parked the daintily covered table in front of the Edward, hiding the other gore-soaked table from view.

Ed allowed his eyes to wash over the cloth. His face contorted in confusion as he looked at three flimsy cardboard boxes, all lined in a row, and an expensive looking dagger resting on the tabletop.

"You look a bit baffled Edward. Here, let me explain." The man tapped each box lightly with a bony finger.

"You see, I do have your meal under one of these, and in just one second I'm going to let your hand free, and you have to pick which one. Not very complicated directions, I'm sure even _you_ can comprehend that, right?" The man stated condescendingly, walking over to Edward and releasing his caged palm.

Ed frowned slightly, then pointed to the middle box questioningly, not entirely sure what the man wanted him to do.

The corpselike man chuckled, "No Edward, I should have known you would be too stupid to actually do something right. You have to strike the box, so it collapses to reveal your food," his dark eyes brightened as he watched Ed hesitantly raise his hand, about to flatten the middle box he had just pointed to.

Before the honey-haired man had the chance to hit the cardboard, the man interrupted casually.

"Oh, and I almost forgot, you might want to be careful on your decision, because I may have stuck in a nasty little surprise in two of the other boxes. They're only nails, but I suppose I really shouldn't have said 'nasty _little_', since they are quite big, and haven't been cleaned in a while, so it might sting just a bit."

"What?! There's no way in hell I'm doing that!" Edward shouted, hastily curling his hand into a fist and bringing it to his chest, trying to shield it from the crazed man.

The man slinked into the dim lighting and picked up the knife from the table, twirling it in his large palm with a practiced ease.

"On no, Edward, you can't just ruin the game like that. I played yours, now you have to play mine. I won't let you just quit like that."

"What's the knife for then?" Ed asked carefully, trying not to show any fear to the masked man in front of him.

"Just in case you decided to stop playing. I told you I wouldn't just let you quit, so it's either you have a chance to save your hand with the nails, or I save us some time and cut off your hand. It's your choice… choose wisely." The man's dark eyes narrowed in glee, looking forward to watching Edward squirm under his stare.

The blond gritted his teeth and laughed, "I'm not choosing either one, how about that. It's a stupid game… You could have three nails under those boxes, and there's no way for me to tell. I can't really trust you 'cause you're a psychopath; so I'd really rather die and keep both of my hands then die without any. You can just kill me now, but I really doubt you will, because you even told me that you have these 'plans' for me, so really, it's _your_ choice," Ed said determinedly, flashing the man a cocky smile.

Ed heard the man roar as he jumped toward the trapped boy. He felt a sharp sting on his cheek as the wraithlike man backhanded him across his face. The man picked up the dagger and lifted it over his towering head, bringing it down with as much force as his thin arms allowed.

Edward's eyes widened as he saw the blade glint frighteningly in the light. _Damn_, _I thought he was bluffing… Al… Winry… I'll never see them again…_ Ed shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the shooting pain of the dagger entering his abdomen. He heard the dull thud as the knife made impact, but he felt…

Nothing.

Ed looked down at the hilt of the sword embedded in his stomach. He let out a shaky breath and swallowed loudly, then gulped in big breaths of air, desperately trying to figure out why he was still alive. He blinked the liquid out of his eyes, _… is this sweat or tears…? _He thought, still panting frantically.

"I called your bluff, you called mine," The man leaned down to whisper in Edward's ear, "and you were right, the food was in the middle box."

The demented man moved away from the still panicked boy, poking the dagger in and out of the flesh of his hand, but leaving no cuts or blood. "This is a funny little sword, isn't it? It's a great illusion, looks almost real, doesn't it? I think every game should be at least a little educational, so for our first I thought I'd just teach you a small lesson in obedience, but you know Edward," the skeletal man said, his tone suddenly turning grim, "the next time you want to be a smart ass, I _will_ get the real thing… And that wouldn't be fun for either of us… Not fun for _you_, at least."

The pallid man took Ed's hand and bound it back to the leather arm, then leaned down and rested his forehead against the tawny-eyed alchemist's, letting Edward feel the coolness of the mask and the warmth of his skin, and forcing the young man to look into his slanted, black eyes. _Xingese…?_ Ed thought uncertainly, catching a fleeting glimmer mix of insanity and hatred in the man's empty pupils.

The man stood up and patted Ed's still stinging cheek. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?" He asked, smirking slightly.

Edward glanced at the blood-covered table behind the three boxes, where Sarah had been, and nodded reluctantly. The man smiled then exited into the shadows, wheeling the small table with him. Edward heard the door slam, leaving him alone in the dreary room.

Ed's eyes wandered down to his stomach as it gave a thunderous growl, telling him that he never did get his breakfast.

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**November 23, 1919-- ****_11:39 AM, Central Headquarters_**

A disturbing picture of a crime scene on the newspaper's front page was slammed onto the desk with a resounding thud. The raven-haired Fuhrer let his dark eyes trail up the tanned arm and onto the round face, stopping only to peer into narrowed silver eyes- ones that had seen too much for such a young man- angrily glaring down at him.

"They've given him a name, Mustang," Alphonse Elric growled fiercely.

"…What," Mustang asked dumbly, trying to make sense of the younger Elric's statement.

"The 'Mad Magician', that's what they're calling him now; from the way he's been killing people. The reporters seem to have realized that people are more likely to buy a newspaper if they're terrified of what this guy will do next, and so, as their biggest star, they gave him a name. No one really knows how he's been doing it, so they're all claiming it's magic or something, and now this psycho's got brother, and you're just sitting on your butt, doing nothing. For all we know brother could be dead," Al said, on the verge of hysteria.

"Calm down, Alphonse, let me ex-"

"No," the bronze-haired boy interrupted, "Winry said you told her you would send people out yesterday. She said that you told her not to worry, that you'd find brother in no time, a day tops. Well, it's been a day since you called, and now, this morning I find a newspaper on my doormat saying that brother could be dead, because the lunatic who's been cutting up these girls has got _my_ brother. You know, I practically had to knock Winry out to keep her from charging down here and killing you herself. And I only came because I want to help, I can help you find him," Al shouted, grabbing the front of Roy's neatly pressed uniform.

"Wait, so you're saying that Fullmetal's in the paper?" Roy asked calmly, gently prying Alphonse's vice-like grip from the blue cloth of his uniform. He held out his hand expectantly, waiting for Al to give him the paper.

Al silently passed the roll of black and white print to the Fuhrer, still fuming. Mustang took the paper and, after smoothing out the dent in the middle of the sheet, caused by Al's tense grip, looked at the front page and began reading.

_Damn, I can't believe the information has leaked out so quickly. If the reporters have found out about Ed already…_ The blue-eyed man's thought's petered out as he finished reading the article.

"Good…" Mustang sighed, immensely relieved that the media hadn't gotten word of the missing Elric yet.

"What'd you mean, 'good'?" Alphonse snarled, slamming his palms on the polished desktop.

Roy turned his solemn eyes to the copper-haired man, "I mean it's good that they haven't found out about your brother yet-"

"It's good! How can you say it's 'good'! I bet you're just trying to cover it up so you can keep the people's support aren't you? You don't give a damn about brother, do you?" Al cut in, his hands clenching into fists, silently challenging Mustang.

"No that's not it. Alphonse, just listen to me. And don't interrupt," Mustang countered with a scathing look to the still simmering young man, hoping that Alphonse would still be polite, even in his rage. "We have to be very careful around this, what was it," Roy quickly glanced at the paper, then turned once more to Al, "'Mad Magician'. He's been killing more people now that the media's involved. He probably wants the attention, and now that he's got your brother, the 'Hero of the People', well, that'll cause a huge uproar with the people. But since no one knows about your brother yet, then Fullmetal will most likely be safe."

"So, what, you're saying that you're just going to pretend this didn't ever happen and hope that it doesn't get brother killed! And maybe get around to saving him if you think that the reporters won't notice!" Alphonse yelled. He grabbed the paper from Roy's hands and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way.

Roy sighed, frustrated. He looked at the large oak door and slowly got out of his seat. _I definitely screwed that up wonderfully_, he thought bitterly. _Better go out and talk to Al before he does something stupid and gets himself killed._

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**November 23, 1919-- ****_11:50 AM, Central Headquarters_**

The blond woman heard the heavy door of Roy's office slam loudly. She heard footsteps coming down the hallway and stomping towards her office.

Riza stood up slowly from her chair, waiting for the young man to come out into the large expanse that was her office. _I really shouldn't have let him in to see Roy when he was so upset, _she thought, worried. _I've never even heard Al slam a door; what could Roy have said to make him so angry._

The brown-haired boy opened the door leading to her room quietly, hoping not to disturb the gun-wielding woman.

"Alphonse?" She asked, unsure.

He looked up in time for her to see the slight glitter of tears at the corner of his pale eyes, before they were hastily scrubbed away.

"I-I'm sorry Mrs. Hawkeye, I didn't mean to interrupt your work," Alphonse said apologetically.

The red-eyed woman walked over to Al, gently touching his arm, trying to comfort the boy. Al looked at the hand resting on his shoulder then followed her limb to look into her eyes.

"What happened in there? Are you alright?" She asked quietly. Her eyes widened and her body stiffened as two arms were suddenly wrapped around her waist and Al's bent his body so his head could rest under her chin. She made herself relax and allowed her hand to rest on the Al's soft bronze hair, while the other started to stroke his back soothingly.

"No, he doesn't even care about brother," Alphonse spat miserably; letting a slight tremor run thought his hunched form.

"He does care, Al, we both do," Hawkeye stated simply.

Alphonse pushed her away and straightened so he could look into her eyes. "He sure as hell doesn't seem like it," he said, his eyes flashing angrily.

"No, Alphonse, he does, he's already got a full search party planned. He's going to send them out later tonight," she said confidently.

"And what's he going to do with that? He doesn't even know where brother is… No one does…" Al said, his eyes downcast.

"No, we think we know where Edward is," Riza said. Al's head shot up to study her face, searching for any trace of a lie. "We got an anonymous tip. It's our only lead, so we're taking it," she explained.

"What!?" Al said desperately, hope burning in his eyes, "I want to go, I can h-"

"No, Alphonse," Roy interjected, stepping thorough the open door to Riza's office, "I already said you can't."

"And why not?" Al snarled gruffly. "I don't care what you say. I want to go."

"Alphonse, just think of your brother," Mustang declared.

"I am. I'm the _only_ one who _is_!" Al exclaimed.

"No, Al, you don't understand. What I'm saying is that your brother has worked too hard and too long for you to get into trouble now. He's given up a lot so you can go to school and live the normal life you two have always wanted. You don't want to go screwing it up, do you? And I _really_ don't think it was Fullmetal's plan for you to get yourself killed, either," the black-haired man snapped harshly.

Al looked down, suddenly finding his feet to be very interesting. "I still want to go with you. I just want to find him," the brown-haired man said guiltily.

"I know, Alphonse, we all do. I know it's hard for you, and I don't want you to have to worry anymore, so would you stop agonizing over this a little if I was the one to lead the search party?" Roy asked decisively, placing a firm hand on Alphonse's broad shoulder.

Al and Hawkeye both looked at Roy in shock.

"Maybe…" Al mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head away stubbornly.

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**November 23, 1919-- ****_12:20 PM, Central _**_**Vantish Apartment Buildings**_

The yellow-haired mechanic stared blankly down into the coffee cup she hadn't touched yet. She heard the door close quietly and instantly sprang out of her chair to run down the hallway and into the open arms of Alphonse Elric.

"How'd it go?" She asked, pulling away and looked for any sign of emotional damage, mutely scrutinizing Al's round face.

Al exhaled slowly, letting some of the tension in his muscles melt away, "It went alright I guess… I mean, he _did_ offer to find brother himself, but I'm still not sure if Mr. Mustang cares about brother or about how the public sees him. But he's sending a search party later tonight and I _really_ hope they find him, but if they don't then I have to do _something_ about it... I can't just leave brother there with that lunatic…" Al trailed off, lost in thought. "Oh, and he told me not to worry so much," he said in an off-hand tone, his eyes glazed, looking off into the distance.

Winry reached her hand up to sweep the brown bangs from Al's eyes. "Well, it's good that he cares enough to go look for Ed. At least now I won't have to go down there and kick his ass." Winry smiled slightly as she heard a chuckle from Al.

The cerulean-eyed girl wrapped her arms gently around Al's broad chest again, hiding her face against his shoulder, trying to conceal the wetness creeping up onto her lashes.

"And I really hope they find him too, Al," Winry suddenly whispered, making a valiant effort to ignore the constricting of her throat and the tears leaking onto her cheeks. Al's arms tightened around Winry's back, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

She heard mismatched steps as Paninya sauntered through the kitchen and into the room where Al and Winry were standing.

"Oh, sorry…" the dark-haired girl said sheepishly, scratching the back of her head with automail fingers.

"Wait," Winry called, as Paninya turned to leave. _She probably feels like she's intruding or something_, Winry thought worriedly. The golden-haired girl beckoned to Paninya, inviting her into their arms, welcoming her into their small broken family. Winry's eyes darted to Al when she heard a small sniffle. She glanced over to Paninya, who anxiously met her eyes, and then the dark pupils swung back to Al.

Paninya quickly strode across the room and wound her ebony arms around the two despairing occupants in the room, prepared to shoulder some of their sorrow.

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**November 23, 1919-- ****_Central _**

The golden-haired man strained his yellow eyes into the darkness as he heard the soft thud of footsteps stalking around the cement cell.

"Well, Edward, the military seems to be looking for you," A voice snickered through the obscurity.

"And how would you know that?" Ed growled, aggravated, still tying to catch a glimpse of the man's cloak to be prepared for when the phantom man emerged from the blackness.

"I sent a little tip to our _grand_ Fuhrer Mustang," the concealed man explained haughtily. "I figured he wouldn't be able to find you on his own," he continued, allowing obvious distain to color his tone.

"Why did you tell them? Do you _want_ them to find me?" Ed asked, incredulously, pinpointing the sound of the man's deep, scratchy voice and whipping his blond head around to follow the man's progress through the room.

"I told them because it's in my nature to put on a good show, and I can't very well do that if I don't have an audience," the man chuckled.

"And how are you going to do that?" Edward asked, sensing impending pain for him.

The pale man slipped from the shadows right in front of Edward. The blond man backed away from the man as far as his chair would allow. _I don't like that look on his face_, Ed thought, panicking slightly.

Ed saw a quick flash of light as something shiny was brought from under the man's sweeping cloak. A thin stream of liquid was spray through the air, erupting from the glistening capsule. Tawny eyes followed the gush of liquid to it's source, only to see a… _NEEDLE!!_ The man advanced toward Ed, a wicked grin growing on the half of his face that wasn't hidden by the ivory mask.

"Stay away from me," Ed snarled, trying desperately to free his hands and feet.

Ed gasped, as the narrow strip of metal was jammed into his arm. He felt the harmful solution pulsing through his veins, gradually making his head swim and his eyes droop. After a couple of minutes his head dropped heavily onto his chest and black dots flew across his blurred vision. He felt nauseous… _If only that guy would stop dancing all over the place, I wouldn't feel so awful. _

The man stroked the hair away from Ed's forehead, making gentle, almost paternal shushing sounds, strongly reminding Edward of the first time he saw Hughes with his newborn daughter, brushing the thin yellow curls from her puffy face. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes open… _I'm so tired_, he thought, shaking his head sluggishly to stay awake.

"I know you're sleepy Edward, just close your eyes and let yourself drift away," the man said soothingly. Ed blinked his eyes in confusion, each time he closed his eyes was even more difficult to open, as the man began to hum a tune that was so familiar, almost like a lullaby, if he could just place where it was from… _Ah,_ _Mom used to sing that to us…_ Ed thought before his eyes closed, unable to open them again. Then everything was silent.

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Sorry for the wait, if it's any consolation, it's the longest chappie I've written so far… please don't kill me…

I always get annoyed when people put characters in a prison or box or whatever, all tied up, and the characters _never_ seem to need to go to the bathroom, it's just a bit strange to me, so I just had to add that in here… sorry, I couldn't help myself… : )

I must admit… I'm addicted to reviews; I love hearing what you guys think, so if you all would let me get my fix, well, that would be WONDERFUL!! I want more, More, MORE!! HAHAHAAAA! Oh jeez, I feel like a heroin addict… ew… not good… but I just can't control myself when I find that people are actually reading!

Flames and constructive criticism welcome too, ya know!! I'll really take anything, but all I ask is that if you're gonna flame, you at least add SOMETHING constructive, so I know _why_ you hate it… k?

_Okay, so apparently I can't count. And since Ed has exactly 2 hands, but 1 was taken away... That would equal 1 hand. BIG Thanks to FlitterFlutter for teaching some math, and catching my (embarrassing) mistake!! :D I love you!_ (I think I got the mistake, but if anyone else sees something wrong, could you please mail me? Thanks again FlitterFlutter!)

Ed-- 'Mad Magician'

1 --I'd say about 10 or so…


	6. Of Confusion and Illusion

**Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope**

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, uh… No, no, no, I'm sorry to say that I don't own anything FMA.

**_FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THIS FAR, BUT STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN IT YET: _****_Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language._**

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**_Chapter 6: Of Confusion and Illusion_**

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**November 23, 1919-- 10:34 PM, ****_Trenpin Street_**

Bright yellow headlights ripped apart the twilight as a sleek black car tore through the night, bouncing over the potholes of the broken road and throwing its occupants into the air with each dip in the pavement.

They were silent as they sat together, preparing for the upcoming task. Six pairs of assorted eyes- each conveying a look of concern and anxiety- stared out of the car's window, every bump of the car jarring their vision, making it even harder to see through the darkness.

Navy eyes glanced in the rearview mirror as the automobile passed under the streetlamps, throwing rays of light onto the faces of the passengers. Roy surveyed each person's expression furtively, and then quickly glanced back to the road to swerve away from the onslaught of never-ending holes littering the street.

As he looked in the mirror he caught a glimpse of determination and resolve flicker across the familiar faces in the backseat from the fleeting light of the lamps outside. He was glad he picked this unit.

Mustang looked at the men in the rearview mirror again, knowing full-well that these men would give their lives for him, and this may be the last time he saw them, if things went wrong in there... The raven-haired Fuhrer let his eyes drift over the grim faces of the men: Breda, Falman, Havoc, Furey…

Roy jumped slightly as he felt something brush against his leg. He quickly searched the darkness, then, spotting a hand, let his eyes traveled up the arm - between glancing toward the street - to the face of Riza Hawkeye. She allowed her palm to come to rest above his knee, and squeezed his leg lightly, silently telling him everything would work out. He allowed a small smirk to graze his lips, then turned toward the road to avoid any further holes in the road.

He was glad he picked this unit…

**_xxxxxxxx_**

**November 23, 1919-- 10:45 PM, ****_Trenpin Street_**

The car stopped in front of a dilapidated building that loomed ominously over the smaller, scragglier apartments dotted on the roads beside it.

The unit sat in the vehicle, nervously glancing at each other, waiting. They opened the vehicle doors and piled out, choosing instead to pace the street instead of being stuck in the cramped confines of the car.

"Where are we?" Havoc asked quietly, craning his neck to look at the building, the roof of which had all but melted into the darkness.

"It's the Trenpin Hospital. It was closed under King Bradley's lead due to safety issues. They must have blown all the money on the war so they didn't have enough to complete this piece of shit. It looks like the building's about to collapse…" Roy explained, shaking his head at the previous Fuhrer's incompetence.

"Oh, great, so we're just gonna wander in there when the floors are about to collapse if we so much as put a pinky toe on them?!" Breda whined worriedly, patting his belly.

"If Fullmetal's in there, then yes," Roy stated simply.

"Wonderful," Breda said sarcastically. "That kid better be in there or I'll kill him myself," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

The group whipped around as they heard the screeching of wheels on the unpaved dirt roads. Dust was thrown from the tires to spread around the area in front of the building, making the occupants cough and wheeze, their eyes watering from the debris.

The passenger door swung open, revealing a man in a thick, bright red coat. "That is the last time I drive with you! I can't believe how reckless you are! And you're a cop! The head cop, no less!! Well, I won't stand for that. I'm going to report you to the Bureau, that'll teach you. They'll have your badge in a second!" The short man squaked in indignation, shoving his wire-rimmed glasses back onto their rightful perch on his nose. He looked around and spotted the group, then stifened, his eyes widening in fear.

The confused unit heard a chuckle come from the driver seat.

"Oh, come on, that's what you always say. Besides, we had to get here fast anyway, so I don't see the problem," the man in the car replied, stepping out of the vehicle into the frigid night. He ran a hand through his untamed black hair, saw his terrified partner, followed his gaze, and then froze. "Oh…" He said hesitantly.

"This isn't the time to be joking around," Mustang declared in an agitated voice, pulling his gloves on threateningly.

"Oh my, Mr. Fuhrer, Sir, we were… Sorry for the delay, we couldn't seem to find a car… We were running late… P-Please excuse my college; he can be a bit of an ass. We didn't expect to see you here…. Why are you… here…? Um, shall we get started?" The squat man squeaked after finding his voice, peering questioningly at the Fuhrer.

"I'm here because I made a promise," Roy said, effectively closing the questioning with a sharp glare at the smaller man.

The taller man dipped into a respectful bow, "I'm sorry Sir, we were running late, and what my college is _trying_ to say is that we couldn't find a car, so we had to come as fast as possible when we got our hands on one…"

"Boys, this is Chief Dan Wilcore and Jim Harringston of the Central Police Force," Roy spat out through his clenched teeth, trying to keep his temper in check.

The raven-haired Fuhrer turned to the Chief, "And this is Havoc, Falman, Breda, Hawkeye, and Furey," he explained curtly, pointing to each one in turn. "Now that that's out of the way, can we please quit fucking around and get on with it? Fullmetal's counting on us." He said, rubbing his temples.

The two officers watched in awe as the six people in front of them pulled out their various weapons, each person carrying their own personal arsenal, all of which they had somehow managed to conceal in the folds of their clothing.

Dan gave a low whistle, "looks like we came a bit under prepared."

Mustang shot him a fierce scowl. "Come on, let's move," he ordered, and began striding confidently towards the dark building. The others following in his wake, guns drawn and ready.

**_xxxxxxxx_**

**November 23, 1919-- ****_Trenpin Street_**

The gentle rattling of chains and a cold breeze running across his skin was what woke him. He let out a small sigh as his yellow eyes cracked open; tiredly searching for anything to help him recall what was going on. _I don' even remember fallin' 'sleep…_ He though groggily, still battling against the weight of his heavy eyelids. _Can't afford… go to sleep again…. Not 'till I know… where I am…._

His eyes wandered down to his feet_… I'm standing_? He thought, confused. _When did this happen? I guess tha's why there's that ache in my arm. Feels like it's been 'sleep for hours… Like pins and needles are running through it… Wait, pins and… needles…? _

He gasped, his eyes snapping open as his head whipped around the room, looking for the mad man and trying to cope with the sudden onslaught of vertigo. _Now I remember, the needle- that bastard!! I hate needles!_He thought furiously as he desperately tried to focus his eyes against his clouded senses, which were still struggling to slip away.

The blond man paused for a moment when he spotted two tired, but angry eyes staring back at him in the dim lighting. He frowned then squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at the man on the other side of the room. _No, it's not that psycho… This new guy has different colored eyes… they look… gold…? And his hair is yellow too…. But no, it's not me…. It can't be me, 'cause he doesn't have a shirt… And I do…._ He thought disjointedly, and then laughed giddily at the absurdity of his and the other man's striking resemblance. _See, I can prove it…_ He glared smugly at the other man, who only smirked mockingly back. Edward looked down, only to discover that nothing was covering his chest…

_Where did my shirt go?_ He glanced back at the man across from him, who was wearing an identical look of confusion and exhaustion. _Bu' I remembered putting on that black military thing the morning Winry and Paninya ha' come to Central… How long ago was that anyway? But it's so cold… Why wouldn't I be wearin' my shirt…?_

A light flicked on, chasing away the darkness and his barely coherent thoughts with it. The tawny-haired man closed his eyes tightly against the sudden brightness, his chest heaving as he tried to control the searing pain that was assaulting his eyes.

"Ah! My little angel is finally awake! And here I thought you'd sleep through the festivities… But we can't have that. You need to stay awake! They'll at least want to see that you're alive," a scratchy voice crowed as the dark figure appeared by the light switch.

Ed shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts, but the drugs were still making him light-headed and dizzy. The blond cracked open his eyes to catch a glimpse of the man. His eyes widened in surprised when he saw not only the one identical doppelganger looking at him from across the room, but a hundred more pairs of his startled yellow eyes staring back at him.

"Mirrors…"

"Oh! What a very clever deduction of you! And here I was beginning to think you were stupid," the man exclaimed as he waltzed up to Edward.

Ed watched as the shadowed man was multiplied when he stepped in view of the mirrors.

"Is th's how you were getting around those alleyways so fas'?" Ed asked suspiciously, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, slurring the words slightly.

"Ah, very good," the man said, pleasure evident in his tone. He tweaked the chains securing Ed's waist to the wall, making the boy arch off of the frigid stone.

"Are you cold, my dear? You have goose pimples all over your skin," the masked man conceded, almost to himself, as Ed suppressed a shiver. "And you still look a little out of it. Hmm… Have the drugs not worn off yet?"

Ed glowered at the man, then turned his attention back to the mirrors. "I don't understand… How di' you get from on top of the building to th' ground, though? Even if you did have mirrors…"

Ed looked down at the shadowed man, watching as he adjusted the chains securing the yellow-haired man to the wall. "Mmm. If you have more than one mirror and you adjust it to just the right angle, it can appear that you are anywhere," the man said in an offhand manner, then he chuckled and looked back at the boy, "oh, dear… I just gave away a secret, didn't I? There's just something about you that makes me want to reveal all that I know… About my craft… My past… I remember, you were in my past once…" The man stopped tightening the chains and raised himself off the ground, allowing his dark eye to peer intensely into Edward's.

"What? Is that why you chose me? Is that why you're doin' this? What have I _ever_ done to yo-"

A vicious snarl erupted from between the man's teeth as two firm hands were wrapped tightly around the blond's throat; cutting off the words he was about to speak. The cloaked man opened his mouth to speak, but quickly turned as the two occupants in the room heard the screech of the door opening.

Edward choked and gasped for breath as the man's ghostly pale hands were removed. The honey-haired man watched in disbelief as the man before him- almost foaming at the mouth before- became suddenly calm.

"Well, it looks like the show is starting," the man said in an almost business-like detachment. The pale figure reached into his coat and gently pulled out a long, sharp sword and touched it to Edward's side. Ed shied away from the contact of the cold steel on flesh, but couldn't escape the edge of the blade for the heavy chains tying him to the wall.

Edward looked at the man desperately, willing this encounter with a knife to be just another one of the crazed lunatic's games. As he watched the man, Edward saw his dark eyes transfixed on the progress of the sharp tip and Ed cringed as a small smile formed at the corner of the man's mouth that was still visible through the mask.

The alchemist let out a yelp of surprise as the blade embedded into his skin, making a warm stream of blood trickle down his abdomen.

**_xxxxxxxx_**

**November 23, 1919-- 10:59 PM, ****_Trenpin Street_**

The only sound that could be heard was the steady thud of boots on pavement as the small group made their way across the dark, shabby parking lot. They didn't even whisper to one another, for fear of giving their position away.

The raven-haired man leading the group paused in the middle of the lot, holding up a hand, and causing the others behind him to stop. They waited in tense silence for the order to keep moving, but it never came. Instead they heard a faint noise coming from the building.

…_click…click…click…_

The rescue party exchanged questioning glances. They looked back at the previously quiet building with an edgy anticipation.

Each person cried out in surprise and shielded their eyes, as the inky blackness surrounding the building was suddenly shredded apart. Mustang squinted against the blinding rays to see that all of the lights in the building had abruptly turned on.

"He must have known we were coming! Just get to the doors quickly, don't worry about being stealthy anymore!" Roy announced to his reeling company. The team ran to the large, rusting doors, each hoping that the element of surprise was still in their favor.

"Havoc, you and I will push the doors open, the rest of you stay back and guard us," Mustang ordered, motioning for Jean to come closer.

The two men each braced themselves against one of the two heavy doors and began to force them open as they put all of their weight behind each shove. Their efforts were rewarded with an ear-splitting screech as the doors grated across the ground.

"Well, if he didn't already know we were here, he definitely knows now," Breda said, then frowned as the group shushed him. They all listened for any movement, heard a sharp yelp echoing from inside, and then darted into the building, a new haste in their steps for concern for their captured companion.

Mustang heard Riza gasp as they entered the hospital. He paused in the doorway to get his bearings, his gloves poised for snapping, then his eyes widened as hundreds of panicked golden eyes- glinting in the light like sparkling gems- stared at them from around the room.

"The guys' got a knife on him," Havoc growled, and Mustang tore his gaze from the confused yellow irises to see a dagger already embedded in the young man's midsection. The cigarette wielding man raised his gun to fire at one of the images, but stopped as Furey grabbed his arm.

"No! Don't shoot!" He shouted, "You could hit Edward. There's also the ricochet to worry about, if you shoot these mirrors, the bullets will just bounce off, then we'll be in trouble," Furey stated matter-of-factly, as the stout man, Harringston, chirped out a praise for the black haired man's quick thinking.

"So we're just supposed to wander through this place 'till we stumble onto him?" Dan asked in desperation. "There's got to be another way!"

"There's no time, we have to get moving," Mustang replied as Edward let out another low growl, the only sound he made to give away his pain. The unit then began advancing towards each individual image, trying to extract the real Edward from the illusions surrounding them.

"Ah, shit! Why did I get pulled into this? I always hated those fun houses when I was a kid!" The dark haired Fuhrer heard Breda murmur from behind him.

**_xxxxxxxx_**

**November 23, 1919-- 11:27 PM, ****_Trenpin Street_**

They continued on, each person trying to ignore the Mad Magicians manic cackles. Each person spreading their arms in front of them- all of them feeling like blind men, grasping for something just out of reach- only to touch the solid barrier of glass preventing them from saving their, still writhing in pain, comrade.

Alchemic gloves ran across the glass, still searching for a break in the terrible images of the tortured blond boy. He nearly tripped as he put some weight on his hands, only to be met with empty air. He motioned with his arms, as if he were treading water, to search for the wall again. He spread his hands apart and was met on both sides by a separate mirror.

_There's no wall for this one, and that's definitely a passage that's here. _He looked ahead of him at the masked man and the chained boy. _And it just looks too real to be another illusion. This has to be it!_ He thought as he narrowed his eyes and a small, predatory smirk found it's way onto his face.

He stalked up to the pair silently, raising his gloves and getting ready to snap for when he was near enough to only hit the man and not Edward. He was almost to the lunatic, when the wraith of a man turned on his heel to dance around the semi-conscious Edward and spotted Mustang.

The Mad Magician paused in mid-step. The crazed smile froze on his lips and his eye widening in growing panic at the closing gap between himself and the Fuhrer. But it only took a fleeting moment for the man to compose himself.

The Mad Magician pulled off his cloak so quickly that Mustang only saw a flash of black before it was already wrapped around the maniac and Ed.

"This will have to continue some other time, besides, my little assistant looks ready to pass out. I guess we will have to say goodbye for now, your Excellency," the phantom man exclaimed in a mocking tone, giving a quick salute, and then pulling the fabric, so it completely covered them both.

"Fullmetal!" Mustang shouted, running to the spot that the two people had just occupied, but they had already disappeared. He dropped to his knees on the floor and began pounding at the hard wood floor, searching for a trap door, or anything that could have concealed them.

"…Sir?" A tentative question came, as a gentle hand was placed on Roy's shoulder.

"He's gone," the dark haired man said, looking up into Riza's red eyes.

"I know sir. I saw," she said sadly, then frowned, bemused.

Roy followed her gaze and saw a large bouquet resting on the ground a few feet away from where they were.

"…What is that?" Roy questioned as Wilcore came to join them.

"Flowers?" Asked Furey, following close behind.

"Where'd you get those?" Havoc asked as he too joined the gathering.

"That 'Mad Magician's' been leaving 'em with all of the victim's that he's killed," Wilcore stated, his tone foreboding.

"Why didn't you tell us this before? We could have found out a little more about this guy from the start," Mustang said calmly, while casting a stern look at Wilcore.

"Anyway, do we have anyone who could figure something out about these quickly?" Roy asked, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"Perhaps Sheska?" Hawkeye supplied.

"Right, Falman, go take these to Sheska and see if the two of you can find any information about these," Roy handed the blood-speckled bouquet into Falman's waiting palms, "then report back to me with your findings," Mustang continued.

Falman turned to find his way back to the car, leaving the unit to stumble out of the maze after him.

Hawkeye paused in the middle of their trek and grabbed Mustang's hand on his way passed her. "But why did he leave them with Fullmetal? Edward was still alive…" She asked quietly, already knowing, but dreading the answer.

"Well, if the kid isn't dead yet, he will be soon," Harringston said, then squawking in pain from a sharp slap to the back of the head from the Chief.

**_xxxxxxxx_**

I really don't have any excuses as to why this chapter has taken so long… I've had PLEANTY of days to work on it! The only explanation I have is that my Muse ran away on me, so I did the only thing I could think of! I chased him down (which took a couple of days) and taped him to my desk, so he should stay stuck there for the rest of the story (I hope…). Then, of course, when I got my Muse back, real life got in the way!! : ( Sorry everyone, for making you wait such a long time! I'm disgusted with myself!! (goes to cry in a corner)

The next chapter may take a little while too, because the school years almost over and for some reason the teachers feel that we students shouldn't be allowed free time, so they've decided, instead, to pile homework on us… What I'm trying to say is that I just can't concentrate on this right now (Now, not only do I have my Muse taped to a desk so he won't run… I have to trap my Creativity in a bottle, so it won't disappear too!! (sob sob))…

Sorry for those of you that actually read the story!! Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews!! I love you all!! (You do know that hearing from you is keeping me sane, right? Or… Allowing me to at least keep what's left of my sanity, anyway! (Which was almost non-existent to begin with) tee hee… double parenthesis! YAY!!)

Oh, and _yeah, yeah_, Roy doesn't normally drive, but, being a Fuhrer now, he'd have to learn (just in case some crazy person shoots his driver and he has to get away… Or, that's the excuse I'm giving you!! He he… : )

**Please review… If you don't, well, I may just have to sick my Mad Magician on you!****MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! )8D But really, no pressure… (cough cough) O.o**


	7. Of Affection and Reflection

**Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own, I don't make money from this, and I don't wanna get sued!

**_FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THIS FAR, BUT STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN IT YET: _****_Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language._**

**_xxxxxxxx_**

**_Chapter 7: Of Affection and Reflection_**

**_xxxxxxxx_**

**November 30, 1919-- 11:45 PM, ****_Central Vantish Apartments Buildings_**

The dark-haired girl was sprawled across the chair on the balcony, ten floors from the ground. Her senses drifted listlessly in and out as her eyes wandered across the night. She watched as some of the lights from houses- looking like stars- flickered, and then turned off. She sometimes caught the random sounds of the city. She shivered, then pulled the thick blanket around her thin frame to keep the cold at bay, and listened to the distant sounds of an ambulance calling in the distance, a cat yowling, dogs barking, people shouting…

She was jolted out of her daze by the sound of a door slamming in the apartment.

"Paninya? Winry?" a voice, oozing with exhaustion, called out.

"I'm out here Alphonse!" Paninya shouted back, her breath turning into pearly clouds.

She heard heavy footfalls as Alphonse trudged out towards the balcony, and then saw a bouquet of unkempt bronze hair as a disheveled Alphonse stuck his head out of the door leading to the terrace.

"Paninya? Why are you out here? Your ports must be freezing," Alphonse asked, sounding worried.

"Ah, it's not so bad, I just needed some fresh air after being cooped up in that hospital for so long," she stated simply. In fact, she _had_ been able to get used to the weather, which surprised her to no end.

He came out onto the balcony and sat down at one of the chairs next to the girl. A smile ghosted across his features as Paninya offered some of her blanket to the boy when a tremor had run though his body.

He waved his hand in refusal- deciding, instead, to wrap his hands around himself as he rubbed his palms up and down his arms in an attempt to let friction warm him. "The weather feels good. It'll keep me awake for later tonight," he answered when he saw the dark-skinned girl's questioning look.

"You're going out again, Alphonse? You just went out last night, you didn't even come in 'till morning," the dark-skinned girl protested, as Alphonse tried to appear more alert than he was, but the illusion was broken by the dark bags under his eyes.

"Alphonse, you look exhausted! Why don't you just go and get some sleep and we, _all_ of us, can go out tomorrow night," Paninya suggested eagerly, trying to sway the russet-haired man.

"I can't Paninya! I don't have time to be tired if brother's still out there! I can't stop until I find him, even if he's already--" Alphonse stopped, unable to continue his line of thought. He heaved a deep sighed, and then rubbed his eyes tiredly.

It hurt Paninya to see that the normally optimistic boy had started to doubt. _There's no chance for Edward if Alphonse has given up hope, too. _It seemed like- ever since Mustang had called seven days ago to tell them the news that, while he and his unit had seen Ed, they weren't able to rescue him, or get close enough to catch the man, either- Alphonse had slowly been getting more and more depressed with each passing hour, and could only find a release from his worry by throwing himself into his search for Edward, which had only caused more worry for Winry and herself.

Paninya put her flesh hand on Alphonse's arm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, "Al, we're doing all that we can to find him. With you patrolling the streets and me and Winry going to all the places where _he's_ been seen and looking for any clue to where he's been taken, well, we're bound to find him eventually."

"Where is Winry, anyway?" Al asked, looking around the balcony.

"She went to go tell Mustang what we were able to find," Paninya grumbled, putting her head in her hands.

Alphonse perked up, "What do you mean, _'what we were able to find'_?" He asked hopefully.

"Oh, Alphonse, I'm sorry. I really should have said 'what we _weren't_ able to find. The bastard didn't leave anything for us to use," she said regrettably as she looked back up at him, and saw the brief flash of hope in his eyes slowly die.

"Oh. Well, then I should get going. Maybe I can look again and find something you missed."

"Alphonse, we've already looked everywhere! There's nowhere we haven't checked!" Paninya shouted angrily. She tried to grab his arm in an attempt to make him stay, but Alphonse twisted out of her grasp. The bronze-haired man began to take a few steps towards the door.

"Wait! Alphonse, you have to stop doing this to yourself! How is working yourself into exhaustion going to help anyone?! What if we do find a lead on _him_, but you're too tired to be any help at all?" Paninya paused when she saw his slowly retreating back linger in the doorway, then she continued angrily, "Have you even been- have you even gone to a class since _he _left?"

Alphonse grasped the doorframe leading into the house to support himself, whether in his exhaustion of indignation, the brown-eyed girl couldn't tell. He stood there for a couple of seconds, and then turned to face her. Paninya saw his eyes flash with an anger she had never seen before. He rounded on her, "And why _would _I go to school? My brother's been kidnapped and I'm supposed to think about _grades_?! It's only because of brother that I can even go to that school!"

"Well, you heard what Mustang said! It can't get in the papers that _he's_ gone, and don't you think that people will start to worry when you haven't been seen for several days and there's still a killer on the loose? They'll come over here and find out E-_he's_ gone, then that psycho will be able to kill him like he plan--"

"Don't! Just- just don't say it… I know," Al sighed in defeat. He leaned heavily against the wooden doorframe, and then slid down the panel until he was sitting.

"You know we're here to help, too? You don't have to carry all the problems yourself. You really arejust like E-_him_, ya know." Paninya observed, being careful not to say 'Edward'. She had been amazingly resistant when it came to avoiding _his_ name in the house anymore, for fear of causing more depression to fall on Al or Winry's shoulders.

A tired chuckle escaped the young man's lips, "I'm normally the one comforting people in a situation like this, but now I'm a complete mess and you have to pick up the pieces… I'm sorry. It's just so hard for me, because, before, I could have just searched for him for hours without getting tired, but now I'm resenting this body for giving out on me."

Paninya blinked in surprise, "I take it back, I don't see how you could possibly be related to _him_ anymore. He'd never out right admit that he was wrong. And he'd never say sorry about it, either." _Well, he's never done that for me anyway, but I'm sure he's told Alphonse he's sorry a lot… So he's not really _too _terrible about that kind of stuff. But I'm sure, for me, he'd whine and complain all the way through the apology, maybe that's why I see Alphonse as such a nice guy, he's always so polite about these kinds of things._

A slight snore broke the dark-skinned girl out of her thoughts, and she looked over to see the bronze-haired man with his head back against the door and his mouth hanging wide open, fast asleep. _A nice guy that snores…_

The brown-eyed girl heaved a big sigh, and then walked over to Alphonse. She bent down, watching his hair move up and down slightly with each breath he took. Paninya brushed the strands of bronze hair away from the artificial breeze, and then shook his arm. "Alphonse, wake up!"

He jerked awake, and dazed brown eyes searched blurrily for the source of the voice that had called to him.

"Alphonse, I think you should probably go to sleep now," Paninya said gently.

Alphonse's head lolled to the side as he attempted to shake his head. "No, I can't," he mumbled after a moment. Then, after some effort, he managed to get to his feet, and stretch, allowing a huge yawn to erupt from his mouth as he raised his arms above his head.

"Why not? You were just sleeping," Paninya pointed out.

"No. I-I mean, I _can_ sleep, but not for long. I keep having nightmares… I-I'm just so tired, b-but I can't help but worry," Al pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

Paninya's eyes widened slightly as she looked into the watery bronze eyes of the man standing in front of her. _I don't know how to deal with this. It was always Garfiel's job to handle the patients when they're upset._

She blinked in surprise when she heard a low growl of frustration come from the previously sleeping boy. "S-Sorry. Sorry," Al groaned as he scrubbed at his eyes. "I-I must be really exhausted if I can't even control myself," he grumbled with a bitter chuckle.

Paninya's eyes softened and she took his hand in her metal fingers, "Let's go inside."

She steered them both inside, closing the door to the balcony on the way, and then proceeded to Alphonse's bedroom. Once inside, she let her eyes roam across the deep blue walls and rest on the fluffy down comforter of Al's bed. They continued on until they reached the foot of the boy's bed.

Her arm was beginning to ache from supporting the alchemist's weight, and she let Al collapse on the goose-feather blankets. He tiredly wormed his fatigued body up to the headboard, exhaled a sleepy breath, and then Paninya went to work undoing his shoelaces.

When she had his shoes taken off, the covers securely tucked around him, and the lights turned off, she began to make her way back to the living room, but a pressure on her automail hand and a whisper caused her to turn around.

"Wait. I don't want to be alone, won't you stay for a little while?"

Paninya turned to see an innocent smile playing around his lips. She smirked in return and crawled into bed with him. It _was_ warmer inside the covers, after all.

_**xxxxxxxx**_

**December 1, 1919-- **_**Central City**_

A steady grunting was heard throughout the dimly lit room, occasionally broken by a small gasp of pain, or an obscenity that was snarled out through gritted teeth.

The blond boy had already started to sweat from exertion. His muscles pleaded for the torment to cease, but the motion still continued. The chains holding him captive bit into his arms, causing a thin stream of blood to dribble its way down his flesh arm to the floor and form a thick, red puddle. But the pounding continued, _forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards_, as the metal bond repeatedly dug into his wrist, following the rhythm of his body, and ripping the skin on his arm in the process. The crimson puddle on the floor was growing larger and larger with each jerk of his limb.

The panting and thrusting stopped abruptly when the yellow-eyed boy heard the slight tap of shoes on concrete. He quickly turned his head to the corners of the room where the light couldn't reach, to try to find the source of a voice, as a greeting was issued from the darkness. Edward could hear a sigh come from the wraith concealed in the blackness while the man observed the situation.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that," said the raspy voice, dryly. "You'll only injure yourself more, then die of blood loss, and I have no plan for you to perish in such a horrendous fashion. Well, not yet, at least."

"Yeah, well, if you're going to kill me anyway, I don't see why I should stop," Ed retaliated, and then continued his previous tactic of shoving his arm forwards and backwards against the thick metal as he tried to force his hand out of the chains.

"So, you're just going to attempt to escape? Right in front of me?" the man retorted, and the blond-haired boy could see the slight amusement reflecting in his unconcealed eye.

"Well, either way I'm gonna die, so wouldn't it make more sense if I at least _tried _to escape?"the yellow-haired boy snarled at the man. _At least I'm in a different room this time, and I don't have to see that bloody table everywhere I look. That might have made more of an impression if he didn't want me to run away-- _Edward thought until a particularly painful gasp escaped his throat when the metal cut deeply into his wrist. He scowled, but persisted.

The man chuckled, "You'd just open your wounds, and then, even if you _did _escape –which is _highly_ unlikely- you'd be running around the city, bleeding all over everyone you met. People would think you had lost your mind."

"No, they think _you've _lost your mind. They would know I was perfectly sane, and they'd probably even piece together what had happened and I could just go home, while you'd be thrown in jail." Edward growled, haughtily.

The magician walked into the light, and over to the chair Ed had been confined to. Ed's stomach growled hungrily when he saw that the man had a steaming bowl of soup in one hand.

The man approached the chair, and then put the hand not holding the precious liquid on Ed's wrist, to stop him from his task, "You're saying I'm insane when you keep trying to get your arm free from the shackles. You know your hand is too big to slip through the chains, and you'll only hurt yourself in the process," the man paused in thought. "And here I was hoping you'd be a bit more docile after our little rendezvous with your friends the other night. After all, you still have the marks," the masked man remarked, while running a slim, pale finger down one of the deeper lacerations on Ed's arm, resulting in an angry hiss from the blond.

"Don't! That _hurts_!" Ed roared, gnashing his teeth in fury. "I still don't understand why you don't just kill me instead of torturing me and wasting both our time!"

"Why? Do you wish to die already?" The man asked, stirring the broth in the bowl invitingly.

"No! I'm just wondering why you haven't killed me, yet!" Edward exclaimed, his eyes following the spoon's progress through the thick soup with interest. "And I know it's not just because you want to _'have fun with me'_, or whatever you're trying to preach! You said before that we had met at one time, then you got really angry, but I don't remember you _at all!_"

"As if I really need an explanations for the things that I do. Besides, the papers have classified me as insane, you should just believe them, hmm?"

"I don't believe that… Well, I believe that you're insane, but I think you have another reason, too." The blond recalled seeing the anger in the man's eye the other night. _How long ago was that anyway?_ "I just don't understand why you killed all of those girls if all you wanted was to see me suffer."

"Well, I suppose I could tell you about the girls". He paused in stirring the stew, and then raised the spoon to Ed's lips for him to take a sip. Edward did so hungrily. "For you see, when I'm on stage, it's such a wonderful adrenaline rush to pretend to saw someone in half and then put them together again. But _actually_ sawing someone, it… hmm… it's _magical_… _And_ I suppose part of the whole murdering business was to get your attention."

Ed coughed on the next spoonful, then, when he had gained control of his vocal cords, he asked, "'_My attention?_' But _why_ _me_?"

"Always so persistent with that question now, aren't you? Why, why, _why_… I suppose that's what makes you a good scientist. So, if I tell you, you won't whine about it anymore?" Edward nodded adamantly through a big mouthful of soup. "All right, if you really want to know, I'll tell you, so at least you know _why _you're going to die by my hand."

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**December 1, 1919—10:53 AM, **_**Central Headquarters**_

Three pairs of military boots stomped down the long hallway towards the large wooden door. The blond woman at the head of the group signaled for the small group to stop while she knocked on the door. When there was no answer she knocked again.

"Sir?" The red-eyed woman asked, turning the elegant brass knob. The door silently opened revealing a dark interior, and the trio walked in, the two at the back of the group more hesitant than the leader.

As their eyes adjusted to the blackness, they saw that heavy satin curtains- which wouldn't let the light enter the room- covered the windows. They let their eyes scan across the room, finally coming to rest on a large dark lump- almost blacker than the rest of the room- that they were barely able to make out as the shape of a person.

The blond walked across the room briskly and tore open the curtains, making a hiss of discomfort echo across the room from the two others. The woman, now able to see clearly, looked between the stone faced, white-and-black haired man and the mousy, brow-haired woman, and then towards the desk where the person-shaped shadow had been.

She sighed in frustration as a slight snore escaped the lips of the dark-haired Fuhrer. "Please excuse him, he was up late with discussing what had been found at the hospital with Ms. Rockbell," she explained, while walking over to the desk, stopping only when she was a few feet away from the man.

"You aren't going to shoot him, are you?" Sheska asked nervously. Riza wasn't listening to the green-eyed woman. Instead her eyes softened as she peeled a paper from the side of his cheek, and then slid her fingers through his black hair.

It was embarrassing for the two to witness such an intimate moment, especially since it was coming from the trigger-happy, no-nonsense woman in front of them. Hawkeye seemed to realize their discomfort, for she cleared her throat and barked sternly, "Sir!"

"Nuh… I dun wanna wake up yet… Come back t' bed Riza, we can snuggle if ya wan' …" Roy mumbled his reply, a sleepy smile playing on his mouth. Hawkeye pursed her lips; her cheeks turning slightly pink, while Falman and Sheska both averted their eyes.

Mustang jolted out of his seat when a resounding _thwack _of hand slamming into the desk met his ears. "Sir, I'm here to discuss our current situation with you, we'll discuss _that_ later, though," Riza announced, firmly, with a hint of future punishment barely concealed in her tone.

Mustang looked around at the others and immediately resorted to a business-like tone, "So, what's the reason you came?"

"Well Sir, we've found something that might help with the investigation," Sheska said tentatively.

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Sorry this chapter is _way_ late… I don't even have an excuse, except a bad case of writer's block… Sorry, again…

Although I'm hoping to have the whole story finished by the end of the year (if anyone should want to know…)!! So yay!! Maybe…

Please review! It makes me happy when I see what you guys think! And it gives me a bit more motivation!


	8. Of Revelations and Confrontations

**Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own. All I can claim is the crazy masked psychopath… Great…

**_FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THIS FAR, BUT STILL HAVEN'T GOTTEN IT YET: _****_Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language._**

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**_Chapter 8: Of Revelations and Confrontations_**

**December 1, 1919—10:53 AM, **_**Central Headquarters**_

"_Well Sir, we've found something that might help with the investigation," Sheska said tentatively._

The dark-haired Fuhrer swiveled his mahogany chair toward the green-eyed woman, opening both ivory hands for Sheska to place the folders in. Mustang flipped through them quickly, and then looked at her expectantly. The Fuhrer loudly cleared his throat when he saw that Sheska had closed her eyes -sleeping, it seemed- so that the woman visibly jumped. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, as they had slid down, and then tried to look alert, but only succeeded at appearing flustered.

"S-Sorry sir. We were both up late last night trying to figure out what was going on!" Sheska exclaimed, quickly looking Falman for confirmation, but frowned when she couldn't tell whether he was asleep or not, from the way his eyes seemed perpetually closed. She continued on, ignoring her research partner, "You see, Mr. Falman and I have been researching the flower-"

"_Anemone hupehensis var. Xinogica_, more commonly known as theXingese Anemone, and the _Dryopteris Filix-mas_, or a common Fern," said Falman, making all of the occupants in the room blink in surprise and turn towards him.

"Yes," Sheska interjected, giving a cautious glance to the man that had all but been invisible before he had cut in the conversation. "Well, we figured that if we could first determine the origin of the flowers that we could decide what the flowers meant, to figure out where they came from and whom had used them. After that had been achieved, we found out that the Xingese Anemone means 'Forsaken' and the Fern represents 'Magic', both of which seemed appropriate for the way that this man had been executing his crimes. We then looked through the military database, and found several cases that were compatible, but the most corresponding incident where the plants were used was by a man named Jin Lee--"

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**December 1, 1919— **_**Central City**_

"_Always so persistent with that question now, aren't you? Why, why,_ why_… I suppose that's what makes you a good scientist. So, if I tell you, you won't whine about it anymore?" Edward nodded adamantly through a big mouthful of soup. "All right, if you really want to know, I'll tell you, so at least you know _why _you're going to die by my hand."_

The masked man proceeded to circle around Edward, his robes dancing in the rhythm of his legs with each swish of fabric, "You see the people in your country are so very skeptical, what with the use of alchemy as science. But in my homeland, the only source of _renkinjutsushi_ is used as a medical procedure, so the people wanted entertainment. They were less inclined to dissect every move that I made, and they were more accepting of my magic, for they believe in their gods and the supernatural. And of things that didn't have to be explained."

The blonde snickered, "Then you won't find much of an audience in this country."

The golden-eyed boy glanced at the man to see a smile crawl across the visible half of the magician's pale face, "Ah. But, you see, I'll make them believe once they see that their great 'Hero of the People' was brought down by my art. And that's precisely what it is, art. Because the people won't be able to explain away how it is that I have made these things happen!"

"Well… I'll know…"

"Yes, but you won't be alive for much longer, so it won't really matter," the cloaked man said in a matter-of-fact tone, lazily flicking Edward's nose with his thumb and forefinger, causing the blond to snort with annoyance.

"So… The only reason that you're going to kill me is to prove that your 'magic' is better than my science? Why did it have to be _me_? Couldn't you have chosen someone like the bastard Col-Fuhrer?" The blond asked in disbelief.

"Well art, I believe, is better when passion is involved," said the wraith, balling his palm into a fist and baring his teeth, "And I think vengeance is the greatest form of all consuming passion that there is."

"Vengeance!? Again with these cryptic speeches! Are you ever going to actually tell me what's going on?" Edward focused his fiery gaze on the man concealed in the shadows and tried, mentally, to burn a hole into the exposed part of the man's face.

"I'm getting to that! Just be patient. I haven't been able to use my stage presence in many years, so you must allow me to monologue for a little longer. Besides, isn't patience the first lesson that I taught you? You remember our deal. If you're not able to contain yourself, then you must give me your other hand," the man chimed with a snicker.

_**xxxxxxxx**_

**December 1, 1919—11:09 AM, **_**Central Headquarters**_

"Jin Lee? That name sounds very familiar," the dark haired Fuhrer interrupted, thoughtfully placing a finger to his chin.

"That is quite possible, sir. When we found the name, we used the military archives to find newspapers that supported our hypothesis. After we had found the name in the papers, we read articles featuring Lee and found that he was a famous magician for the emperor in Xing," Falman stated, before going silent again.

"Oh, that's right; Madame Christmas took me to see his shows when we went to visit Xing when I was younger. He did some impressive tricks, but I didn't really buy into it. I think the only reason that I remembered is because that was when we also saw the emperor's palace," Roy commented, his dark eyes turning to the window in a faraway stare before Sheska brought him back to the conversation.

"Well, it appears that he was sent into exile, the details weren't very specific, but the paper made it clear that they forcefully chased him out of the palace and his wife died when they banished him as the emperor's magician. But the paper also stated that he escaped with his life and the lives of his two sons."

"Sons?" The blond secretary and black-haired commander asked in unison.

"Yes, sir. Twins. After that, he immigrated to Amestris and began his act again in East City," Sheska announced, leafing through the newspapers in her arms to provide them with the proof that was written in ink. "But it was hard to find more information about that except that they showed up again several years later for a memorable trick called the Indian Rope Trick," the brunette concluded, absentmindedly flipping through the papers at the bottom of the pile in regard to the missing information.

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"When I moved to this land, I was in a panic," the man's smirk promptly fell to a frown as he began to pace around the small room, his floor-length coat making it appear that he was floating. "I had my two sons with me, but my wife had been taken from me, so I didn't believe if life was worth living. The guards had stolen the most precious treasure from me, and I couldn't raise two boys on my own. But then I started to rebuild," he stopped pacing and slammed his fist into the wall, and Edward could hear the resentment echoing around the room.

"I began to rebuild the life we had together. We moved to a quaint place named East City. Well, I suppose anything is quaint when compared to the Emperor's palace. But that's where we worked."

"The Emperor?" asked the blonde.

"But I thought this would be a better place, or at least a different one. I thought that I'd be able to start over. Make a life for my sons and me. I started the old business, and this time my sons were able to help. And they even offered to help me, my sweet boys. We had perfected a new trick- the Indian Rope Trick- and were making enough money to get by; we were going to reveal it. It was one of the best that I had come up with. And since I was new to the city, no one knew that I had twins, so they wouldn't have figured it out for a long while," Edward could see the man's back start to tremble from where he sat as the words were ground out of the wraith's mouth.

"What was the Indian Rope Trick?" the golden-eyed boy asked hesitantly.

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"In the papers it said that, The Indian Rope Trick- as it was named- was one in which one boy- one of the twins- would climb up a tree after getting in a 'fight' with his father. The trick was conducted inside, but the stage lights didn't shine up to the top of the theatre where it was performed, so the boy wouldn't have been seen. After that the boy would be sitting in a tree to catch the rope that the man threw up to go after him, bringing a sword with him to represent his anger. Another 'fight' would commence and shaved monkey limbs would be tossed down, showing that the man had cut the boy into pieces," Roy and Riza exchanged a horrified glance, which Sheska caught before they could conceal it, "Yes, barbaric stuff, isn't it? It's absolutely fascinating," she conceded, then continued with the explanation.

"The man would then climb down and place the limbs into a wicker basket. That's where the other boy would be hiding- the other twin. And as the other twin is sitting in the basket all along, he gets the monkey limbs dropped all over him. But what the audience saw would be the boy being disassembled and then reassembled after the other twin jumped out of the basket. He must have calculated the advantages of having twins at his disposal, because it became a widely known trick after he performed it," she concluded with a quick nod.

"Well, if it was so popular, then why isn't he more well-known?" Riza asked, shooting the brunette a puzzled look.

"Well, there was only one reported story on the trick and it proclaimed that it was real magic, but then tragedy struck before it could be fully introduced. We had to research many other sources after the trick's performance to see how it worked, because it took the reporters' years afterwards to discover the mechanics of it. But it was obvious that the trick was supposed to bring a great crowd of tourism into East City," Sheska answered.

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"But you see there was a problem. There happened to be a serial killer on the loose, one that we were afraid would drive away all of the people whom were potential customers," the masked man told the blonde boy, his back still turned to Edward.

"Oh, yeah? And who was that?" Ed asked sardonically.

"It was a man who went by the name of Scar. And unfortunately for my family and I, and even the inhabitants of East City, a military brat called the Fullmetal Alchemist was also in the city at that time"

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"Oh, yes. I remember the East City incident. Fullmetal was sent there when Scar wasn't as well known to investigate the recent deaths of alchemists," Roy contributed.

"Yes. That was also one of the most expensive assignments that he's been on thus far. I remember seeing the bill. It had seemed as if he had wrecked the entire city chasing after Scar," Riza said, a grimace quickly crossing her features before she hastily concealed it.

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"And _apparently_ you had some sort of conflict with him, because you decided to throw the entire town into ruins. That was the day of our second performance, the first had been in the paper as a flawless masterpiece, and had even brought people out of hiding to see what all the fuss was about," the man lamented, his back hunching over, as if he was going to be sick.

"But before we could even finish the trick for the second time, _you_ had to intervene," the man said, beginning to turn toward Edward.

"Me? I don't remember that?" the shorter man admitted.

The masked man whipped around, racing to Ed's side so quickly it seemed as if his had only just appeared, his eyes conveying barely hidden rage, "Oh, you wouldn't, would you?" he snarled. "But as it happens, you had decided to build a canon on the side of our building that had thrown many of our supporters across the room, giving most of them concussions or worse. I saw the damage in the paper afterward."

"And when it fired, it had shaken the rafters and had let my son fall to his death and caused the support beam to collapse on my other me and my other son. He hadn't survived either. And I can't remember anything that had happened that day, except that I woke up in the hospital a week later with half of my face torn off," shaking with rage the man paused, appearing to gather himself before he continued icily, "I wasn't even aware that they had already buried the bodies of my sons in Amestris soil until I was released. I can't help but remember that my wife was buried in Xing, so now my family will always be separated. _Always_. And _you_ are to blame for that Edward Elric, the _great_ Fullmetal Alchemist."

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"So Edward brought the building down on him and his sons? Then why did it take so long for him to catch up with Ed?"

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"It took so long to find you, because you were running around the county, but you had finally settled down for the big production."

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"And now there are several signs up advertising the man's upcoming shows. I almost think the murders were some sort of promotional stunt. And now he's going to take it out on Edward."

_**xxxxxxxx**_

"I've even put fliers up for the show. And they're decorated in the most elaborate of manner, so I'm sure we'll have a good turn-out. Not to mention all of the publicity I've been providing the public with."

_**xxxxxxxx **_

Mustang gripped his desk, "When is the show?"

"It's on December the fourth, the anniversary of his son's death," Vato provided, eliciting a scowl from the dark-haired man.

_**xxxxxxxx**_

Ed sat unmoving in his chair, feeling the hot breath of the masked man on his face.

"What? You're finally speechless?" the magician asked with sadistic pleasure. "Well then, perhaps I should have told you this sooner. But how about I show you had much you've ruined my life."

He began to peel off the mask; the sound of skin catching on porcelain reverberated through Ed's ears. The blonde gasped as the other half of the face was revealed to be blotchy and red. Puckered scar tissue, some still scabbed or bleeding from being attached to the mask, was wrapped around an empty eye socket and sprawled to the edges of his face.

"Perhaps I should finally introduce myself, since you are the only living person to truly know me. My name is Jin Lee and I'm going to make you pay for everything you've cost me. That's the entire principle of your science, so you should have no problem with this logic. You'll have a couple more days to live, and I expect you to be obedient." With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Ed sat in his chair, feeling the cold of the winter creeping into the room from the open door somewhere in the shadows. He could practically feel the noose tighten around his neck, but the man who had tormented him wasn't to blame. He had transmuted it when he had wrecked the city, when he had allowed the rafter to fall on his sons. He had wrapped it around his own neck and the only way to atone for what he had done was to pay for his sins. _Equivalent Exchange_, after all, a nagging thought informed him acidly.

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Wow… Another chapter finished. And this one only took… 8 months *hides from debris thrown her way*. I can only say: IMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRY!!!! RL got in the way… In a big way… But again, I'm so sorry about this! I did just the thing I said I wouldn't (8 months for an update *hides in shame*).

So anyway, I'm going to be very chatty in my A.N. this time, just to explain some things. First of all, I'm surprised that Ed hasn't killed anyone yet with his destruction! The kid's kinda a menace to society, but to each his own I suppose. Ah, well. It was bound to happen sometime.

Right. Secondly. So, I know that 'India' wouldn't have existed in Amestris, but I figured you guys could just play along, because the trick is actually called "Indian Rope Trick", and I didn't want to change the name (it is a classic, ya know? …And I wasn't thinking with much creativity at first…).

Thirdly, the name of the flowers and their meaning is true, although the 'Xingese Anemone' (Botanical Name: Anemone hupehensis var. Xinogica… Had to improvise from the real one…), is actually a Japanese Anemone (Botanical Name: Anemone hupehensis var. japonica). And the name of our masked magician is a Chinese name, but in the series, the names seem to come from the Chinese culture (Ran fan, Mei, Ling… etc.), but the culture seems kinda a mix of the Asian cultures.... Or so I gather…

Another thing, Madame Christmas (in the manga), is Roy Mustang's foster mother, and he refers to her as such… For anyone isn't reading the manga!

And one other thing. The format is from Brave New World. There's a part in the book where they're all explaining something to each other and it uses this kind of split sequence (at the end of this chappie, although you can still tell who's who.), so you don't really know who's talking, but it still gets the story told and it merges them into one. And sometimes, if they don't directly answer each other, it still explains the dialogue from the next section; I was just too lazy to describe the Trick two times by each party. But I just thought that was an interesting way of writing and I wanted to try it out.

Lastly, if anyone is wondering:

"The Indian Rope Trick, first performed in 1890, is a classic of street magic, having been witnessed by such notables as Marco Polo. It is always performed at night, for reasons that will soon become obvious.

"In preparation for the trick, the magician must find a tree so tall that its lowest branches cannot be easily seen at night. Before the crowd gathers, the magician lights a number of torches beneath the tree (to make it even harder to see up into the darkness), and in the tree's branches places a large, hungry tiger.

"As the trick begins, the magician throws a rope up to where the tiger rests. The hungry cat, seeing movement, naturally snaps at it, catching the rope in its powerful jaws. The rope is thus held for the assistant to climb.

"After the assistant is in the tree, the magician yanks the rope out of the tiger's mouth, hurting the animal's jaws and angering it. The animal inevitably roars and leaps on the defenseless assistant, tearing him apart.

"Safe on the ground, the magician gathers the bloody crumbs of the tiger's meal and puts them in a large basket that was prepared ahead of time. The basket actually has two chambers -- one for the icky bits, and one for the twin of the former assistant. At an appropriate time, the twin pops up, pretending to be his late brother, and walks into the crowd to begin gathering donations.

"It is surmised that this trick was originally invented not so much as an entertainment but as a convenient method for disposing of extra twins." (that's-uhh… That's pretty sick).

If you wanna learn any more about it, I got my know-how from this site (along with others, but mostly this one: http: // www . mallusionist . com / streetmagic / indian-rope-trick . shtml (without the spaces, of course!).

As I used it, instead of a tiger, one twin would be sitting in a tree to catch the rope and instead of the tiger eating the boy (what kind of parents were these people!). The boy, instead, tossed down shaved monkey limbs (although not much better than a tiger!), while the other twin was sitting in the basket all along, and then got the monkey limbs dropped all over him… yuck…

So, thanks SO much for those of you who stuck with me! I'm sorry again (I'll keep saying it until someone hits me with a brick to shut me up *hides* SORRYSORRY…), but I'll work harder for the next chapter to come out sooner. And please review! I really appreciate it when you guys do!


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